


Witcher's Bond

by phai6688



Series: Witcher's Heat [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Desperate Sex, Don't forget about Coën, Families of Choice, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sad history of the Witchers, School of the Griffin, Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, Slightly Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Witcher Friendships, very minor spoilers for season 2 (Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25276087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phai6688/pseuds/phai6688
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have accidentally bonded and mated during Geralt's surprise heat.Now Jaskier is desperate for sex, Geralt has to deal with ancient Witcher rituals, and the Witchers from Kaer Morhen also bond with Jaskier.-"We're doing pretty good time. We might make it to Kaer- what the fuck are you wearing!" Geralt rarely lost composure, outside of his heat, but his voice rose quickly when he finally looked up."Hello, love," Jaskier smiled slowly and set his book down. "Oh, you mean this thing," he gestured to the small, red lacy shorts he was wearing. And that was all that he was wearing. "Just something I picked up."
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii & Jaskier | Dandelion, Coën & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert & Vesemir & Lambert & Coën, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert & Coën, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Series: Witcher's Heat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831165
Comments: 175
Kudos: 972





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I just can't stay away from this fandom. Here is the sequel to Witcher's Heat. Please read that to understand what's going on here. 
> 
> I said that this would be angsty, but happy ending is guaranteed! 
> 
> Enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Jaskier was tired of being horny. They've been traveling to Kaer Morhen for a few weeks now, and Geralt kept saying that they were close but never close enough to actually get there.

Things between him and Geralt were better. They had conversations, which were mostly one-sided, but Jaskier didn't mind hearing himself talk, and ever since Geralt asked him to sing, Jaskier had been trying to sing to him more often. It would have been a nice, lovely trip if it weren't for two things.

One, Jaskier was so horny that he couldn't come up with new song materials. For a whole week, he couldn't write a song that didn't begin or end with large dicks and bulky abs. Those songs might be hard for the conservative towns to swallow and probably Geralt's father. Jaskier was planning on singing a special song for Vesemir but had yet to come up with anything that didn't involve his adopted son getting naked.

Two, his new 'Geralt' powers, as he loving called them in his mind, were weakening. Usually, when he would lie next to Geralt at night, he was able to sense his general feelings with skin-to-skin contact. Now, he had to concentrate in order to get the same effect. Also, his sensitivity was fading. When they stopped at a random town for a night, one of the innkeeper's lovely daughters brushed her hand over his, and he didn't feel anything. It didn't feel good but it didn't feel wrong either. He joked around her obvious attraction and left.

That night, Jaskier made an important decision- he had to seduce Geralt. It shouldn't be too hard, the Witcher already followed him with heated eyes, and he could sense his arousal whenever he was near. Yet, Geralt never did anything but look. Maybe he was waiting for Jaskier to act first?

In the middle of their third week of traveling, Geralt estimated that they had another week left before reaching Kaer Morhen. For most of their journey, they camped outside, so Jaskier politely stated that they should stay at an inn for at least one night. Others might call his very polite way of speaking to Geralt as "whinning," but the Witcher relented. Now, Jaskier had the perfect opportunity to enact his plan. He had already been teasing Geralt a little.

A few days ago, he dropped a piece of fruit on the Witcher's lap and spent several minutes looking for it, apologizing profusely. "Sorry Geralt, that's a slippery piece of strawberry! Oh, I think I see it," he shivered when he gently patted Geralt's clothed erection.

"That's not a piece of fruit, Bard," he replied roughly.

"Oops, my apologies." He continued searching on the man's lap.

Geralt grabbed his arm and pulled him down, so that their faces were close together. "What are you doing, Jaskier?" He whispered.

He swallowed hard. "Looking for a piece of fruit. It fell. On you. I'm really clumsy, Geralt," he bit his lip to stop himself from saying more.

The Witcher's gaze fell to his mouth, and he moved his head a little closer. Jaskier ran a sly tongue over his lips. "I can't give you some fruit, Jaskier. You know that, right?" Geralt practically breathed those words on his wet lips, making the Bard shiver again.

"But I want it, I want my fruit." He placed his hand on Geralt's thigh.

Instead of grabbing him and fucking him within an inch of his life again, the Witcher let go of him and sat back. Losing his nerve, Jaskier pulled away and went to sulk on his bedroll.

That night, Geralt meditated as normal, while Jaskier glared at him. When Carmela did that to him a few years ago, he immediately succumbed and spent a happy, enjoyable night with her.

Next, he accidentally tripped and fell into Geralt, while the Witcher helped him off of Roach, which they rarely road together anymore. Startled, the Witcher fell onto his back with the Bard on top of him. Jaskier made sure to plant his ass on the other man's crotch and wow, something was sure happy to see him.

"I'm so sorry!" Jaskier gasped dramatically. He felt a sharp increase in the Witcher's arousal and the minty flavor his scent deepened. "Geralt, are you ok?" He wiggled around on the Witcher's lap and moaned as the leather covered erection rested against his entrance.

Geralt's hands went to his waist, and his hips thrust up, creating a delicious friction. "Jaskier," he groaned.

"Mmm, I'm so clumsy," the Bard panted as he ground his ass against that firm cock. Oh gods, he wanted it inside of him so bad. "Fuck, Geralt, why am I so clumsy?"

Geralt's hands went to his ass, and he squeezed them. Then, he lifted a heavy hand and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to the right cheek. Jaskier lost his ability to breath for a second because he was so turned on. "That's for being so clumsy," he said silkily.

"I can't help it! I just keep falling everywhere!" He cursed that he was still wearing clothes, especially pants. He rubbed his own erection against Geralt's firm, leathered belly as he also tried to rock back on the man's cock.

Someone cleared their throat. Both looked up to see an older man and woman standing in front of them. The man had his arms crossed with a clear look of disgust on his face, while the woman's mouth hung opened in shocked delight.

"Leave those devilish activities for a more private setting," the man said with a sneer.

"Or, just forget about the world and do it now!" The woman said gleefully. The man shot her sharp glance, and she shrugged. "We all have our vices."

Jaskier blushed fiercely and stood up, pulling down his tunic as far as it would go to hide his erection. Geralt stood up as well but looked a lot more unapologetic and unconcerned.

"The closest town, where is it?" He asked in that rough, gravely voice of his that meant he was very aroused.

The man pointed to the left. "They won't welcome your kind there," he spat.

"They never do," Geralt said and led Roach in that direction. Jaskier shyly waved to the woman who blew him a kiss.

Tonight, they were in a relatively clean inn and Jaskier was ready to get fucked. He had taken his bath, prepared himself, and brought a little something special for the occasion. 

He sensed Geralt coming back upstairs from taking care of Roach, so Jaskier quickly draped himself over the the set of pillows on the bed, a book in hand.

"We're doing pretty good time. We might make it to Kaer- what the fuck are you wearing!" Geralt rarely lost composure, outside of his heat, but his voice rose quickly when he finally looked up from setting down his bag.

"Hello, love," Jaskier smiled slowly and set his book down. "Oh, you mean this thing," he gestured to the small, red lacy shorts he was wearing. And that was all that he was wearing. "Just something I picked up."

Ever since he was a boy, Jaskier enjoyed being in the spotlight, with all eyes on him, but nothing beat being the center of Geralt's full, undivided attention. He leisurely stood up and stretched, feeling the heaviness of Geralt's gaze as it traveled from his hard nipples, toned abdomen, and down to the full erection encased in the lacy material.

"So, I was thinking, my dear Witcher," he said into the charged silence that settled between them, "that we should fuck."

Geralt backed himself against the closed door as Jaskier prowled towards him. "I-uh," he cleared his throat and his amber eyes widened as Jaskier got closer. "Not a good idea."

"Why? Because my Geralt powers scare you?" He wrapped his arms around Geralt's neck and leaned close to whisper in his ear, "I don't care."

He anticipated that those thick arms were going to push him away, so he tightened his grip and pressed himself along the Witcher's fit body.

"Jaskier, I don't want to hurt you again." Geralt's fists clenched at his sides.

"Remember what I promised before your heat started?" Jaskier couldn't help but press a kiss on the corner of his downturned mouth. "I promised that you wouldn't hurt me. And you didn't. Now trust me again, Geralt. The only thing that will hurt me is you leaving me." His voice cracked a little on the last words, and he didn't mean to get so emotional during Operation Witcher Seduction.

"You're so young and full of life," Geralt said, caressing Jaskier's smooth, clean shaven cheek. "I can't tie you to this life. To the path. It's a hard and lonely road."

"Listen to me closely, Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier grabbed the back of his neck with both hands. "I want to be wherever you are. If you want me, that is." He looked away. He was used to imposing himself on Geralt without his permission, but this was different. If Geralt didn't want him, Jaskier didn't want to force himself on him anymore. He would leave and not look back.

Geralt didn't answer him but pushed him aside and went to his bag. Jaskier suddenly felt silly and too naked. He wrapped his arms around himself and wondered if there was a plan B or C to Operation Witcher Seduction when Geralt turned around with a large box in hand. Without looking at Jaskier, he thrust the box into his arms.

The Bard looked quizzically at the Witcher, but he sat down on the bed to open the plain wooden box. It was a lute! With shaking hands, he lifted it up. He noted the instruments's fine craftsmanship and elegant designs as he studied it through his blurred sight.

"It's beautiful! Is it for me?" Jaskier looked up at him with wet eyes. Geralt smiled softly and nodded. "Gods, this must have cost a small fortune. How did you-"

"Don't worry about that, just don't use it as a weapon, alright?" Geralt sat down next to him.

"Wow, thank you so much. It's gorgeous," he smiled widely and wiped his tears away.

After a few seconds, Geralt said, "Of course, I want you with me, Jaskier. And not just for sex stuff. I, uh, like you, and I like how I feel around you." He leaned to the side to lightly kiss his bare shoulder.

"Well, then, we should celebrate this gift with-"

"But we shouldn't have sex," Geralt said firmly.

Jaskier looked down at the smooth lute and at the large, callous hand that he wasn't sure Geralt knew was currently kneading his thigh. "Ok," he finally responded.

"This heat, it did things to us, to you. Until Vesemir can tell us what's going on, we shouldn't mess with our bodies anymore." Geralt looked seriously at his face while his hand was busy running up and down his thigh.

"But it's been a month, Geralt. And I'm horny! I know you are," he pointed to his lap, and Geralt quickly removed his hand.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Jaskier played a few delightful tunes on the new lute before Geralt spoke again. "We can't fuck, but we can do something else." Then, his Witcher stood up and began removing his clothes.

"Oh gods, yes!" He quickly put his lute back in the box and placed in a safe spot underneath the bed. He sat back and watched Geralt take off his pants until he stood naked in front the salivating Bard.

Jaskier moved to take off his red lacy shorts when Geralt said, "No, leave it on."

He settled on top of the smaller man and kissed him thoroughly. This time, Jaskier didn't have to hold back, so he dueled for dominance with his tongue, but let the other win when he grabbed his ass. He could feel Geralt's immense arousal and desire and whimpered when Geralt's tongue didn't get deep enough. He needed something else.

"Where the fuck did you get this? What the fuck is it?" Geralt ran both hands over the soft, delicate material that did a really bad job of hiding the Bard's assets. The material molded itself against Jaskier's cock and ass, highlighting every detail, and yet showing very little skin.

"Ahh, it's lace and uh, satin!" Jaskier panted out as Geralt's hand cupped his cock and squeezed it through his lacy shorts. "Geralt, touch me!"

Geralt licked his way down Jaskier's chest until he reached those enticing, pebbling nipples. He paid them homage as he continued to stroke the Bard through the obscene red material.

Jaskier refused to lay passively this time. During the heat, he felt like he couldn't touch Geralt the way he wanted to, but now there was nothing preventing him from exploring the Witcher's body.

He pushed Geralt until the man was on his back, and he set to worshipped that scarred, magnificent body. He let his tongue do most of the exploring as he gently licked and kissed each new scar that he found and played a little bit with his tight nipples. He felt one of Geralt's hands fondle his ass as he moved past his stomach to his hard cock.

"Jaskier," Geralt called out in warning.

"I just want a quick taste," he said and swallowed half his cock without any unsexy actions, such as coughing or gagging. Jaskier was proud that his cock sucking skills had gotten slightly better.

He leaned over the Witcher's erection as he sucked, leaving his ass facing Geralt's direction. The man still hadn't taken his hand off the lacy-satin material of his tight shorts.

"Jaskier, that feels good," Geralt moaned when Jaskier pulled him back into his mouth, tasting the bittersweet flavor of the leaking head. He wanted more. He increased his speed, hoping that Geralt would cum in his mouth, so he could taste him. He remembered what he liked when women did this to him and stroked his erection as he focused on the head.

"Come here, siren, come here," Geralt pulled him up and kissed him on the lips, letting Jaskier share his taste with him.

"Geralt, I want you to cum," he muttered between kisses. He was suddenly feeling very hot.

"Straddle me, beautiful."

Jaskier straddled his naked waist and instinctually pressed the hard head of his lover's cock against his hole. He forgot he was still wearing his shorts. 

"Geralt, get inside me," Jaskier whimpered. He craved the feeling of fulfillment that Geralt could only give to him. There was something inside of him that wanted to reaffirm their connection, something that burned for his Witcher.

Geralt sat up and devoured Jaskier's mouth with his. He slipped a hand into his shorts and pressed a finger into his slicked hole.

Jaskier tried to fuck himself against the digit but it was too small, not enough. It wasn't what he needed.

"Geralt, put your cock in me, please," he softly begged against Geralt's lips.

The Witcher cursed and pressed their foreheads together. "I can't, siren, not yet."

"Please, Geralt, just put the tip in me, please. I want it. Please, I need it," he groaned. He felt so hot. He wrapped his arms around Geralt's shoulders and leaned into him as the world started spinning.

"You're so- Jaskier, what's wrong?"

The heat consumed his entire being. Jaskier couldn't feel anything except for the flames burning his body from the inside. "Geralt, help me! I'm on fire!"

He fell, unconsciousness, heedless of his Witcher's cries.


	2. Kaer Morhen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and reviews! Please keep them coming!
> 
> Warning for some very light spoilers for second two of the show!
> 
> I used some Witchers' names as background, but those are not original characters. In this chapter, I introduce Vesemir, Eskel, Coën, and Lambert. Because I'm focused on the TV show right now, I've based their descriptions off their actors and some information I have read about their characters. I'll link the website below if you are interested.

The next three days were the worst ones of Geralt's existence. After Jaskier's collapse, he frantically and insistently called for a healer but there was no one available, except for the town's midwife. 

The woman hurried over to the inn, still half dressed in her nightgown and examined Jaskier's too still body. Her husband and the innkeeper stood grimly in the doorway, unwilling to get closer to a witcher. 

She didn't tell Geralt anything more than what he knew already. "It's an unnatural sleep. Nothing can wake him, not even the strongest smelling salts. It's as if he died but in spirit only." She crossed herself and left with her husband.

Geralt saved the innkeeper the trouble of kicking them out, grabbed his things, and finished dressing Jaskier to leave for Kaer Morhen as soon as possible. He searched around the room until he found the lute and strapped it to Jaskier's fully dressed body. He almost looked like himself. 

On Roach, Geralt rode as fast as he could to the old fortress. He only stopped to give his horse some crucial breaks, but she could sense his urgency and was ready to keep going whenever he was. Jaskier refused to wake up. 

The Witcher knew that humans couldn't survive long without food or water, so he tried to coax some nutrients into the Bard. He was more successful with water than food because he could force the water to slide down his throat, but he didn't know how to make Jaskier chew and swallow. 

He kept his mind clear as he traveled and rested with Roach. He refused to let his panic overwhelmed him or else he would break apart and wouldn't know how to put himself back together again. He could still feel Jaskier. When he cradled him in his arms and concentrated on the man, he could faintly feel the Bard's presence. He wasn't in pain and that comforted Geralt a little. 

When he was close enough to Kaer Morhen, he had to leave Roach behind and climb the Witchers' Trials in order to reach the fortress. The path was treacherous during the day, and it looked even worse in the middle of the night. Geralt quickly swallowed a Cat potion and hoisted his Bard higher in his arms. 

When the crumbling stones of Kaer Morhen were in sight, Geralt could feel the burn in his arms and legs from the intense traveling and from carrying Jaskier's full weight on the path that the Witchers sometimes called, "The Killer." He pushed into the large, empty entrance hall and called out Vesemir's name.

He thought he had a handle on his emotions, but his voice sounded shrill and desperate to his ears as he kept calling for Vesemir until he heard footsteps. 

"Geralt, is that you?"

"Why is he screaming like that?" 

Vesemir and Lambert rounded the corner to the entrance hall and stopped when they saw Geralt kneeling on the floor with a still, silent human in his arms. 

Vesemir stepped closer to the pair, his golden eyes honing in on the unconsciousness young man. 

"Geralt, who's this?" He sniffed the air between them. "And what's that scent?"

"Jaskier, I think he's- He helped me with the heat and-" Geralt's voice wavered, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. 

Lambert shifted on his feet, feeling uncomfortable with Geralt's rare display of emotions. 

Vesemir's face softened in somber understanding. "Lambert, get a room ready for our guest. Make sure it's warm."

Even though he was glad to have an excuse to leave, the youngest Witcher still felt like it was his duty to complain. "I'm not a servant, Vesemir. We all pull our weight here, equally."

Vesemir gestured for Geralt to stand up with the human, while he spoke, "If you keep standing there, you can also get Geralt's horse. I'm sure Roach is close by, he never goes anywhere without it." 

Lambert huffed and turned to complete his task, not before turning back to look at their "guest." He thought he smelled some spiced honey. He shrugged and left. 

Vesemir carelessly cleared a nearby table with the swing of his powerful arm, and Geralt laid Jaskier on it. He looked so pale and still. 

"Now, my boy, tell me everything that happened. Leave nothing out," Vesemir commanded as he grabbed a chair and sat down besides Jaskier's body. 

In a halting voice, Geralt explained he shared his heat with Jaskier. The human agreed, and he survived. Then, he explained the strange changes that both he and Jaskier suffered. Vesemir's face remained impassive throughout his story but from knowing the man, Geralt could tell that he was displeased. 

"This reminds me of that saying, 'be careful with the quiet ones' or something like that. Son, you go from one scrap to another," Vesemir shook his head and chuckled. "First the Child of Surprise," Lambert must have told him about that, "and now you bring a Consort. Never thought I would see one again," He laid a thick, withered hand on Jaskier's forehead.

"A what?" Geralt shook his head. "Vesemir, just tell me if he's going to-" The sudden pressure in his throat didn't let him finish the sentence. 

"He'll be fine, Geralt, if you do what I say. First, you have to understand the big, fucking problem you have created here." Vesemir stood up and crossed over to stand in front of Geralt, who squared his shoulders as if getting ready for a fight. In a low voice, he said, "It's extremely irresponsible what you have done with this young man. Without knowing, you have exposed him to a potentially dangerous and irreversible situation. You think, he would have chosen to go through the heat if he knew the full consequences of his actions?"

"How was I supposed to know anything if we don't talk about this, Vesemir?" Geralt raised his voice, despite the warning look his mentor was giving him. "I know nothing about heats or consorts or what all this means!"

"You knew you had two choices, hide or die! You weren't supposed to make your own third choice. Something like that takes time and rituals or else this would happen!" He waved at Jaskier's lifeless body, and Geralt deflated. 

His head hung low, he asked, "How can I help him?"

Vesemir sighed and walked back to human boy. "Heats are as old as the mutations. This was a side effect that no one expected or could cure. Some witchers were even driven mad by the heats, especially the younger ones. Nothing helped, except sharing the heat with someone." In an uncharacteristically tender move, Vesemir took Jaskier's hand in his. "When the first Consort appeared, it seemed like a miracle. That someone could share a Witcher's Heat and survive. Well, there some requirements."

"What were those requirements, Vesemir? You said that before but you never explained them."

"What did you feel towards this young man when you went through your heat?"

Geralt blinked and tried to organize his chaotic and hazy thoughts during that time. "I felt like it was the right thing to do, like he was ready."

Vesemir nodded slowly. "That's one of the requirements. You can't pick just anyone out of an alley to share a heat with a Witcher, there had to be an emotional connection between the two. The partner had to prove that she, or he, was strong and loyal, and I guess this Jaskier, you said? Jaskier proved that to you."

"I've been traveling with him for several years now," Geralt admitted. 

"And he stayed with you for the whole heat?"

Geralt nodded, Vesemir whistled. "Poor child," he patted Jaskier on the hand. "I've heard stories of how brutal heats could be on the partners. I hope you were good to him afterwards."

"Vesemir, get to the part where you tell me how I can help him. And why are you so-," he waved towards the handholding. 

"Patience! Consorts took care of the heats but it wasn't easy to find a compatible person who filled all the requirements, so each Consort was treated like a rare treasure." He smiled fondly at Jaskier. "My old mentor, Barmin, had a beautiful Consort, Ophelia. Whenever I was around her, I just felt lighter, more comfortable, and focused. It's one of the side effects of sharing a heat, you see. Other witchers can feel a connection to a Consort. When they realized that, Witchers had to be even more careful about who gets chosen. It even became an important part of the ritual- other witchers can dissent if they see a problem with the potential Consort."

Geralt's head was spinning from all the information, but only one piece of it had his heart beating faster in jealously. "Connection? Does that mean that you and the others feel what I feel for my siren?"

Vesemir smirked at the nicknamed but ignored it verbally. "Don't be thickheaded, boy. Had you felt threatened, you would have ripped my hand off already." 

It's true. Geralt always felt an immediate, possessive emotion when anyone else tried to touch his Bard. He was grateful that Jaskier seemed to find other's touch difficult to handle and has rejected romantic advances. He ran a hand through his dulled, silver hair. 

"We'll just feel comfortable around him, a little more relaxed. We'll be able to sense that he belongs to you because you have bonded him to you as your Consort, but he'll be special to us. Maybe he'll turn Lambert's sour mood around," Vesemir chuckled and Geralt let himself smile. 

"What happened to all the Consorts?" Geralt asked. 

Vesemir lost his smile and gripped Jaskier's hand a little tighter. "They all died in the raid of the keep. And with them most the information on completing the ritual, other things about the heats and consorts, and of course, how to produce the mutations to make more of us. All gone." He set down the Bard's hand gently and patted it once. "I know some things that can help, and I'll look through the books that are left from that time period tomorrow. Grab your young Consort and follow me."

Geralt lifted up Jaskier in his arms and followed Vesemir to the west tower, with the warmest rooms since it faced the rising sun. They followed Lambert's scent to a large, dusty room with a roaring fireplace and fresh bedding. 

Lambert was feeding another log into the fire when they stepped in. "Good work, son," Vesemir nodded. 

Geralt laid Jaskier on the bed and took off his boots, knowing that Jaskier hated getting into bed with his shoes on. 

"Who is that human, Geralt?" Lambert stood next to Geralt. "He kind of smells like you but sweeter. Like honeyed milk. It's nice."

Geralt couldn't help the pride and possessiveness that blossomed in his chest at the words. 

"I'll explain more tomorrow, but that's Geralt's Consort, Jaskier," Vesemir grinned at the confused look Lambert threw at him. "Go to bed, Lambert. Tell the others to meet me at lunchtime for a meeting. It's time we talk about our heats." Lambert paled and backed out the room without saying anything else, which Geralt was grateful for.

"We haven't had a Consort stay within these walls for centuries. I never thought I would witness it again," Vesemir mused as he closed the curtains. "Now, how long has it been since you've ejaculated inside your Consort?" Vesemir asked in the same tone he would asked Geralt about his day. 

His cheeks heated, and he coughed a little before responding, "Ever since the heat about a month ago."

"Geralt, why are you torturing that poor young man!" Vesemir pointed at Jaskier. "This whole situation makes me wish you were still small enough for me to put you over my lap and deliver some old-fashioned common sense. You made this bond with your Consort using sex and pheromones, it takes frequent sex and pheromones to maintain it!"

"Wait, I have to-" He gestured to himself then to Jaskier. "But he's unconsciousness."

"And he'll die if you don't. You pick the lesser of the two evils. When you stopped having sex with him, you starved the bond. That backlash can kill him unless you begin to feed it again. Now, you're understanding some of the consequences of choosing option three?" When Geralt meekly nodded, Vesemir looked satisfied. "I'll leave you to it." He left, closing the door behind him. 

Casting aside his worries about the whole situation, Geralt undressed Jaskier then himself. It was difficult to sustain his erection if he looked at the Bard's lifeless face, so he shut his eyes and focused on his scent. He slicked himself up and pushed in as gently as he could. Mercifully, it only took a few minutes for him to release into his siren. He kept his softening cock inside of him as he drifted off to sleep. 

\--

Jaskier woke up in an unfamiliar place. The room was cold and drafty with old windows and worn curtains. The corners were filled with dust and cobwebs, but the bed was deep and comfortable. He laid a gentle kiss on Geralt's arms, which embraced him from behind. Without turning around, he sensed that Geralt was exhausted to the bone, physically and mentally. He also knew that they were in a safe haven and there was only one place that would make Geralt feel like this, Kaer Morhen. 

He moaned a little when he shifted his body and Geralt's cock slipped out. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked behind him. Geralt's hand immediately started searching for him, and Jaskier smiled fondly. He laid a hand on Geralt's arm and sent out as much positive energy and reassurances that he could. It worked because the Witcher relaxed on the bed. 

Jaskier was a little shaky on his feet but each step became steadier. As he dressed, he looked for food or his lute and couldn't find either. Fuck, he hoped that Geralt grabbed it before they left. He assumed that he was out for about five days since that's how far they were from Kaer Morhen. And it would explain why he was so weak and hungry. His stomach growled, and he felt a wave of dizziness.

Sighing, he slowly walked towards the door and blew Geralt a kiss before descending the stairs. He just kept going down until he reached some sort of hallway and followed the scent of food and male voices. 

"I still prefer to hide or die."

"I agree, this third option seems to be more trouble than its worth."

"And of course, it's the famous White Wolf who makes all this trouble."

"Anyone would like to join me in research? Eskel?"

"Sure, if it helps Geralt."

"Aww, how cute and sickening. Let's all pitch in and clean up Geralt's messes."

"Wait, I smell him. It's Geralt's Consort."

Just when Jaskier thought that the final steps were going to be too much for him, a really tall, older man with a imposing presence stepped into the hallway and zeroed in on him clinging to the wall. 

He just knew that it was Geralt's surrogate father, Vesemir. They had the same grave look around their amber eyes, and the same melancholy aura about them. He tried to stop cowering against the wall, but his legs were still shaky and trembled threateningly underneath his full weight. 

"Young one, what are you doing out of bed? And where's Geralt?" Vesemir stepped closer and gently wrapped a huge paw of a hand around his arm.

He also knew that he looked like a mess. He wasn't vain about his looks... who was he kidding? He was terribly vain, so he hadn't examined himself in the mirror too much when he got dressed because what he did see freaked him out. He was thinner, pale, almost waif-like. He lost all the muscle he'd gained during his travels with Geralt and the tanned highlight to his skin as well. 

"Geralt's still in bed, he's really tired and needed his sleep. I was just hungry," his stomach took that as its cue to growl really loudly. Vesemir chuckled. 

"Well, come on, child. Coën made lunch, so it's pretty good." He pulled the Bard off the wall and led him to end of the hallway. 

"Boys, this is Jaskier. Jaskier, these are Geralt's brothers: Eskel, the responsible one," Eskel had hideous scars on his face but it didn't hide the gentle smile he flashed Jaskier. 

"Coën, the irresponsible one," a dark-skinned man with a thick beard waved at him enthusiastically. Jaskier waved back. 

"And Lambert, the youngest Witcher in existence," the redhead gave him a once over, then turned away coldly. 

"And I'm Vesemir, their mentor," he grinned and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Jaskier, come sit," Coën got off his chair and offered it to the Bard since he was closest to the doorway. Before Jaskier could protest, Vesemir pushed him onto the chair. Coën sat on the other side of him. They were in a rough looking kitchen with a large caldron-like pot bubbling over the fire. The table was large enough for eight people, but it felt smaller with the four large male bodies.

Eskel got up and poured some of the thick stew into a wooden bowl and placed it before him along with a spoon.

"Coën, it looks and smells amazing!" Jaskier closed his eyes at the aroma of spices, tender meat, and vegetables that emanated from the soup. Vesemir took the other seat next to him, across from Coën.

Coën beamed, and Jaskier marveled at the expressiveness of this witcher before he took a sip. The hearty warmth felt great in his empty stomach. He was half way into his bowl when he realized that the other four men in the room were staring at him, even the redhead who pretended to look anywhere but at him. 

He took another gulp and stood up on steady legs. "Excuse my rudeness but let me introduce myself formally. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, but I go by Jaskier. I am a poet, bard, songwriter, and Geralt's travel companion. I am honored to be here in your presence," he gave the small group a little bow and sat back down. 

The men stared at him for a few more seconds before Vesemir burst out into laughter. Coën and Eskel joined him, while Lambert only smirked. 

"I like this one!" Vesemir clapped a hand on his shoulder. "He's better than certain sorceresses who come in here, thinking they are in charge."

"I didn't like that sorceress, she was scary," Coën shuddered. 

"Yennefer was here?" Jaskier didn't know how to take this reminder that he might be second in Geralt's affections. 

"Eskel was cursed and we needed a mage to help out. Geralt said he knew one," Coën explained. 

"And as soon as she was done, she starts demanding this and that. I'm glad Geralt hid our exact location from her or else she would show up here, demanding things," Vesemir shook his graying head. 

"Women are too much trouble. Some men, too, apparently," Lambert looked pointedly at Jaskier when he said the last part. He sat across from Jaskier.

"Aww, you only say that because no woman can stand your attitude, Lam-Lam!" Eskel went behind Lambert and rubbed his head with his knuckles. 

The redhead batted his hands away with a scowl. "Don't call me that, especially in front of him."

"You mean, Jaskier? He's one of us now," Coën turned to the Bard who nodded happily. "See?"

"Quiet, Coën, that's a decision Geralt and Jaskier have to make on their own," Vesemir lightly chided the energetic witcher. 

Before Jaskier could ask what he meant, Vesemir turned to Jaskier, "So, you're a singer?"

"Yes, I'm a bard, and I've written many popular songs." Might as well do his best to impress Geralt's father. 

"It's been a while since I've heard good singing. Would you mind putting on a little performance for us when you are feeling better?"

"Of course!" Jaskier grinned at the group.

Excited, Coën slapped his hands against his thighs, "Yes! I can't wait!" Seriously, where did they get this witcher?

"We have a tank of ale in the basement, so all we need now are the whores to make this a real party," Lambert said with a straight face. 

Vesemir waved his hand in dismissal, but Eskel clapped Lambert on the back. "I'm so old that that I don't need that anymore."

"That's not what I heard happened on your last hunt, old man," Eskel said slyly. 

"I don't want other people here, they always smell so disgusting. But not you, Jaskier, I like the way you smell," Coën smiled cheerfully at him. 

"Aw, thanks, Coën," he finished this soup and pushed the empty bowl to the side. 

"Eskel, get him some more. This boy is just skin and bones," Vesemir commanded. 

"I'm not hungry any- uh, that sounds great!" He changed his mind when he saw the glare Vesemir gave him. 

"If you want some female presence around, call Yennefer, Lambert," Eskel said when he placed the refilled bowl in front of Jaskier. 

"Now that's stuff of nightmares," Coën shook his head. "The two crankiest people I know getting together."

The rest of the them, including Lambert, laughed and Jaskier joined in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the website I used to guide my characterization for the four new witchers: https://mashable.com/article/netflix-the-witcher-eskel-lambert-coen-casting/. In addition, I used some information that I knew already from the Witcher 3 game, the Witcher Wiki, and some of the novels.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to let me know if you're enjoying the story!


	3. Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well!
> 
> Thanks for all the amazing kudos, comments, and bookmarks!

Nightmares plagued Geralt's sleep. He dreamt of Jaskier dead with empty, cold eyes. Jaskier dying because Geralt fell on a hunt and no one could help him. Jaskier staring at him with hate because he was chained to Geralt, chained to the Witcher's path of loneliness and isolation.

Geralt sprung himself awake, apologies flowing from his lips but there was no one to hear them. He closed his eyes and fought to control his breathing as he searched for Jaskier's presence. He felt it immediately and knew that he was safe and content at the moment.

Fuck, he couldn't do this anymore. He put his head in his hands and wished he could just give into his desires to cry and scream. He wasn't fit to deal with all the emotions he had every fucking day concerning this bond and Jaskier. It like his heart wasn't big enough to handle all the ups and downs and maybe as a Witcher, it was true.

Even though Vesemir romanticized Consorts, it meant all sorts of trouble for Geralt. He'd chained Jaskier to him, to this life. He couldn't stop hunting and settle down somewhere and make a nice little home with Jaskier. He couldn't give the man what he wanted but would never voice to him out loud. He turned a joyful, innocent into mutant, a freak like him.

The idea made him nauseous, and he could feel the worry coming from the Bard. Fuck, the bond was restored and stronger than ever. He could probably feel the mess of emotions that Geralt couldn't even name. He stood up, and for lack of anything better to do, went to the bathing area. Hopefully, Jaskier got the hint that he wanted some space.

When he got there, he mechanically soaped himself up and rinsed with some buckets of cold water. Then, he got into the hot springs. This was his favorite part of the fortress. The bathing area was divided into two sections: the outer stalls, where the men soaped and cleaned themselves off and the inner springs. No one knew where exactly the waters of Kaer Morhen came from, but they stayed at the exact same temperature and water level. The springs were part of an ancient cave system that the Witchers incorporated into the lower levels of their fortress.

Geralt slipped into the warm, misty water and tried to empty his thoughts, but he kept going around and around in circles of self loathing and panic. He was almost grateful when Eskel showed up. The scarred Witcher walked into the inner chamber wet and naked, much like he did, but unlike Geralt, he ran into the hot springs and splashed as much water as he could onto Geralt.

Geralt splashed him back with a wave of his arm before moving back, "Eskel, you know that annoys me."

"Then, guess why I do it?" Eskel grinned, wrinkling the many scars on his face. "This is great after all that reading I just did!"

"You were helping Vesemir?" He felt a trickle of fondness for the other Witcher when he nodded.

"To save your ass," Eskel chuckled. "Vesemir kept reading when I gave up."

Geralt sighed, so Eskel rolled his eyes. "Alright, tell me what's wrong, brother? I met your, uh, Consort, and he's nice. I like him."

"Apparently, you are all designed to like him. Did Vesemir tell you that?" Geralt said bitterly.

Eskel nodded and leaned back against the stone edge of the pool. "He smells great, I'll give you that. Kind of like warm, sweet bread. But he's also funny, polite, and I think he cares about you a lot. Coën's ready to pledge his swords to him, if he hasn't already."

"Coën's here? I haven't seen him in years." Geralt massaged a tense muscle in his shoulder. Coën underwent the mutations at a later age than most witchers, so he acted more human than the rest of them. Sometimes, Geralt wondered if he felt isolated from even other witchers because of this.

"Then, why aren't you with us, instead of hiding out here?" Eskel gestured to the caves.

"Because I messed up sharing my heat with him."

Eskel's brown eyes looked at him without judgment or emotion. "Why do you say that?"

Geralt let out a deep breath and looked around the cave. "Do you know that he's a lord?" His brother's eyebrows shot up. "He's the heir to an estate, he's never told me but I overheard him talking about his home with someone else. Because of this, he can't go back there or go anywhere. I need to keep fucking him, like he's some addict, because I fucked up. I did this to him!" Geralt slammed his arm into the water, splashing it everywhere.

"Have you talked to him about all this?"

"No, he's been knocked out for the past few days, and Vesemir talked about it like it's permanent."

"Well, during my research, I found out that a new bond is not permanent," Eskel said uneasily.

Geralt surged towards the other Witcher. "We can break this and make Jaskier normal again?" He asked eagerly.

Now, it was Eskel's turn to fidget and look away. "There's a way to break it, but I won't say anything more until you talk with Jaskier. This is about him, too."

The silver haired witcher pulled away. "Eskel, you've known me for most of your life. You've met Jaskier today. Tell me how I can break this bond!"

Eskel frowned, and Geralt knew that he wasn't going to get anything out of the other man. "I've already made up my mind. Talk to your Consort, Geralt, before you do something you regret." He left the pool.

Eventually, Geralt stood up and got dressed. It was time to fix this mess.

He found Jaskier giggling with Coën as the two of them stood in front of the entrance to the cellar. He had his lute strapped to his back. Good, someone went and got Roach.

"-and the Lord turned around and we saw that he was wearing women's clothing! Carmela was so mad! Meanwhile, I was hopping out the window with one leg in my pants and trying not to laugh! It was the funniest moment of my life!" Jaskier gesticulated vividly with his hands as he spoke, and Coën ate it all up. He could see what Eskel said because the expression on Coën's face was borderline worshipful. Geralt smirked in amusement.

For the next few minutes, Geralt just watched a healthy and vibrant Jaskier regale Coën with another story from his various exploits as an ex-womanizer. He was so goddam beautiful. Did Jaskier even like men that same way he liked women? Would being with someone as dominating as Geralt satisfy him the same way? The Bard told him that he had been with men, but Geralt had never seen him in another man's company in a romantic or sexual way. Eskel was right. He needed to talk to his siren and understand what he wanted. Then, he would press for them to break the bond.

He cleared his throat, and the pure delight on Jaskier's face healed another broken shard of his heart. He held his arms out as Jaskier ran to him and hugged him tenderly. He heard Coën say something, then clap him on the shoulders before leaving.

Geralt pulled back just enough to examine Jaskier's face. His skin was still paler than normal but now he had a slight flush of pleasure to his cheeks. His brilliant blue eyes sparkled with happiness. The Witcher's hand went down to the Bard's hips, his favorite spot on his body, but he missed the muscles and small amount of fleshy padding that covered that area. He was so skinny.

"Geralt, I met Vesemir and your brothers-in-arms! Eskel is such a softie, he reminds me of you," Geralt quirked an eyebrow at that description but smiled fondly. "Lambert is a grouch but I like him anyways. Coën is a big ball of energy. How is he a Witcher, Geralt? I thought you all were like, grr, and I-don't-show-emotions, but I'm seeing that's not the case at all. Oh, and Vesemir is like everyone's Dad! Thanks for bringing me here, love. And I think they like-"

"Jaskier," Geralt gently interrupted his rambling, "we're not here to socialize. We're here to learn more about this bond."

"Oh, right," Jaskier suddenly shivered, and Geralt remembered that this fortress might be too cold for a recovering human. Jaskier held up a hand when he approached him again with an outstretched hand. "No, I'm alright. What did you find out about the bond?"

Jaskier's blue eyes were so vivid and large on his thinner face that Geralt couldn't stare at him and give him all this information.

"Let's walk around a little while we talk. Did Coën show you around?"

"Only a little. We were trying to figure out where to have our party for tonight when we got distracted." Jaskier chuckled at Geralt's dumbfounded look. "I'm putting on a Witcher's-only performance tonight."

"Hmm," Geralt remarked as he led his Bard towards one of the towers. He told Jaskier about the Consorts, a long-dead group of humans who survived a Witcher's Heat and formed bonds with the witchers. He also told Jaskier about the Consort having the ability to make connections with other witchers. Jaskier smiled at that part but didn't comment. He spoke about the unknown rituals, the dead Consorts and Witchers, and that their bond needed sex and pheromones to sustain it.

"I think this is the most you have spoken since I've known you, my dear Geralt," Jaskier finally said. They ended up in one of the old, empty training halls. Geralt remembered getting beaten again and again by Sorel, who just told him to get up and try again without explaining what he was doing wrong. He was so angry, he let his emotions cloud his judgement. Was he still making those same mistakes?

"Jaskier, we have to break this bond," Geralt said abruptly.

The Bard froze, then chuckled weakly. "Break this bond? You didn't say anything about that. Didn't Vesemir say it was permanent?" He began to pace a little in front of Geralt.

"Eskel told me today that he found a way to break the bond. He wouldn't tell me anything more without you being there," Geralt tried to smile but he couldn't keep it on his face. "I think we should listen to what they found and break this bond."

"Why?" He asked in a small voice. Jaskier cleared his throat. "Am I that annoying? I know I talk a lot and you don't and I do things that can irritate people. I've heard it my whole life. I just thought- I thought maybe it wasn't so bad for you." He wiped the tears from his eyes.

Geralt felt his own sorrow compounded by Jaskier's. He tried to push aside those sentiments because it could just be the bond talking, pheromones or whatever else. He knew that this was the right thing to do for both of them.

"Jaskier, the life I lead is not for you," Geralt said firmly. He saw the Bard flinch but he refused to soften his tone. "I'm a Witcher. To most humans, I'm a freak, a mutant. On any hunt, I could die. There's no room for you." He wished he could take those words back when he saw Jaskier's shoulders hunch into himself.

"I can feel how painful this is for you, Geralt. And I don't understand why you are putting us through this," Jaskier stared up at him with shiny blue eyes. "If we are both doing fine, why can't we continue as we have been?"

"We are both doing fine? You were unconsciousness for nearly 4 days because I didn't fuck you!" Geralt couldn't help but raise his voice when he thought about how helpless the Bard was because of him. "That's not fine. That's not normal! That's not the life you deserve, Jaskier."

"We'll do things better, then. We'll learn everything we can here and start over." Geralt sensed that Jaskier was filled with excitement over something. "We have an amazing opportunity here, Geralt. If what you say is true, we are the first Witcher and Consort pairing in centuries! The possibilities are endless. Maybe destiny led us here for a reason." The Bard laid a tentative hand on Geralt's arm.

He shook it off and prowled around his old training hall like a caged lion. "Possibilities? The witchers are dying, Jaskier! And sometimes, I think it's better that way. You know, what they used to do to boys to create us? Murdered them and tortured the ones who survived to make monsters like me."

"You're not a monster, Geralt," Jaskier sounded tired but Geralt couldn't give up until he saw reason.

He grabbed him by the arm, gentle despite the anguish and old anger coursing through his veins, and pulled the Bard in front of an open window. "You belong out there in the world, Jaskier." He told him as they stared out into the barren landscape the last rays of the day's sun touched. "You belong with a someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved. Who won't turn you into a freak or imprison you in a weird bond."

"You have me all figured out, right?" Jaskier asked in a bitter tone that Geralt had never heard from the man. He sensed anger, pain, and disappointment coming from him. Geralt couldn't help but take a step back. "Maybe you're right because what's the point of this bond if you still can't understand what I'm feeling or listen to what I'm saying. Fuck you, Geralt." With that, Jaskier left.

Geralt went back to staring out window and stayed there for a longtime.

That night, the witchers, plus Jaskier, had dinner together in the kitchen area. They heated up the stew from lunch, but this time they had bread and wine to accompany the meal. Jaskier acted like his usual buoyant self, but Geralt could sense the hurt underneath the happy facade, like a festering wound. The others sensed it as well because Coën kept shooting daggers in his direction behind Jaskier's back, while Eskel and Lambert gave him little glances. The only one who treated him normally was Vesemir. Jaskier refused to meet his eyes.

"Gentleman, are you ready for the performance of a lifetime?" Jaskier stood up to address the group after everyone was done with their meal.

"Yes!" Coën clapped excitedly.

Jaskier was wearing his flashy light blue doublet for the occasion. "Let's go to-uh, Coën, where did we decided to do this?"

"Let's go to the round room next to the entrance hall!" Coën stood up. Geralt nodded, the acoustics were better in that small, circular room than in the kitchen.

"I'm not going anywhere," Lambert said and crossed his legs over the corner of the table. "Why can't he sing here? What's so special about one place or another?"

"There's more wine in the entrance hall," Coën said flatly.

Lambert placed his boots on the floor. "Fine."

At the intended destination, Jaskier produced his lute from somewhere and began to sing a slow, maudlin song about a man who discovered his wife's conditional love. All the witchers, including the half drunk Lambert, were spellbound by the lyrical, baritone voice and skillful use of the lute.

When he finished, Coën wasn't the only one on his feet clapping.

"Geralt, you've done quite well for yourself!" Eskel pushed him playfully with his arm.

Vesemir patted him on the back. "He reminds me of Ophelia," he said happily. Geralt didn't know if his mentor had ever sounded so cheerful.

The witchers yelled for another song, drunk Lambert was even louder than Coën in his enthusiasm.

Jaskier closed his eyes and zeroed in on Geralt as soon as he revealed them again. "This song is for you, Blind White Wolf. Since you can't understand me in any other way, I hope this song opens your heart." With trembling fingers, Jaskier began to play on his lute and opened his mouth to sing.

Jaskier sang a song about the richest little boy in the world who was desperately unhappy because he only found rejection and pain. Finally, the boy left his home and found a friend. A friend who was also different and rejected. The boy helped his friend when he needed it the most and something new, wonderful, and exciting happened between them. And his love for his friend morphed into a deep, romantic love. He loved ever single strand of weird silver hair his friend had. He loved everything about him that other people called disgusting and evil. He loved his friend's strange family who made him feel more welcomed than his kin ever did. Because he belong to his friend and his friend belonged to him.

And Geralt understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to review and/or kudos! I really appreciate them.


	4. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well!
> 
> In this chapter, there will be some steamy scenes, so you are now warned!

When Jaskier woke up to Geralt's sleeping face the next morning, he decided to enjoy the time had with him. Despite his heartfelt song, Jaskier wasn't sure that he had convinced Geralt to work on this bond thing together versus breaking it. He could still sense the apprehension and fear in his Witcher and wished that he could banish those feelings. But then, Geralt wouldn't be his Geralt.

He kissed the other man's graceful nose and slow slid the bedsheets down until his sexy Witcher was bared. Oh yes, he was so glad that Geralt decided to go bed naked last night. Looking down at the rosy erection, Jaskier licked his lips and settled between Geralt's splayed legs to enjoy his pre-breakfast snack.

He sensed that Geralt was awake long before the man sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Jaskier was almost able to deep throat his thick cock, pulling delicious moans from his Witcher. Jaskier increased his speed, feeling the familiar burn light up underneath his skin and racing up to his throat.

Geralt threw his head back. "Ah, Jaskier!" He groaned when he came down the Bard's ready throat.

Jaskier swallowed hungrily, the fires extinguished, and licked the sensitive head with soft, little flicks of the tongue.

"Come up here, siren," Geralt pulled him up by the arm and kissed him, tasting himself, as he gripped Jaskier's cock in his powerful fist.

Jaskier broke the kiss and panted against Geralt's neck.

"Cum on me, siren. Mark me with your cum," Geralt growled into his ear as his hand moved faster.

"Fuck!" With that, Jaskier came all over Geralt's well-built torso.

After their bodies cooled a little, Jaskier propped himself up on his elbow. "Well, good morning," Jaskier grinned into Geralt's amber eyes.

"Morning," he trailed a finger down the side of Jaskier's body.

"We got a little messy. We should clean up before heading downstairs."

"Who's turn is it?"

"Lambert's."

Geralt groaned. "He's the worst cook and is always late. But we still have plenty of time to clean up, and I know where."

Jaskier loved the secret hot springs area. It was a magical experience to step into the inner chamber for the first time. It was a little dark but Geralt quickly lit up some nearby torches. The place was like a giant tub inside of a cave but without the dankness or dirt. The area was remarkably clean and fresh looking and the water was warm with a misty foam coating the top.

"This is amazing!" Jaskier splashed into the pool happily.

"Best part of Kaer Morhen," Geralt said as he approached him. "In all this water, you look like a real siren." He slipped behind Jaskier and peppered his neck with kisses.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Jaskier warned playfully.

"I can finish alright," he pressed his hardness against the Bard's firm cheeks.

"Well then, continue," Jaskier smirked, turning around.

Geralt fucked Jaskier in the hot springs with the Bard holding onto the rim. The Witcher drove into Jaskier hard and fast from behind as the sounds of their bodies meeting each other's again and again filled the air.

Jaskier could only grip the ledge for dear life has Geralt fucked him with a similar intensity to his heat fucking. The water splashed and swirled around their hips. He bowed his head and whimpered when Geralt rubbed against that magical spot in his ass.

"Geralt, Geralt!" He wailed pitifully as the man behind him drove them both closer to completion.

Geralt pulled on his hair and growled into his ear, "Tell me you want this."

"Please, please, oh gods, please," Jaskier babbled, overwhelmed by his own arousal, the sounds and smells of their union, and the ferocity of his Geralt's lust. He could feel Geralt all around him and yet, it wasn't enough. He wanted more.

"Tell me what you want, Bard," Geralt commanded when he grabbed Jaskier's erection.

"Please come inside me! Please, make me yours again, Geralt! Fuck!" He opened his mouth in a silent scream as Geralt's rough movements made him cum on the side of the pool. He fell back onto Geralt's body, panting furiously.

Geralt didn't give him a chance to recover because he picked him up, without disconnecting them, and dragged him to the shallow edge. There, he dropped Jaskier on the slippery steps and kept drilled into ass. Jaskier pushed himself towards him as best as he could but he mostly enjoyed the sensation of Geralt taking his selfish pleasure from his body. He hoped those incredibly strong hands would leave bruises on his hips again. He sensed Geralt's arousal approaching its peak, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

Geralt thrust inside of Jaskier as deep as he could and came, gasping against his damp back.

"Mmm, yes, Geralt, give it to me," Jaskier groaned, feeling the warm rush of his lover's release.

Geralt took him back into his arms and hugged him tightly for several minutes. They settled back into the deeper part of the springs before hunger drove them out. They got dressed and left hand in hand.

In the kitchen, Jaskier was pleased to see everyone, minus Vesemir, sitting around the table. If he didn't know any better, he would say that they were waiting for them.

"Oh, look who's finally here?" Lambert drawled as he slammed a few cards on the table. It looked like he was playing some sort of card game with Eskel.

"Good Morning, everyone!" Jaskier greeted the small group brightly.

Eskel nodded to him and Geralt, but Coën stood up and exclaimed, "Jaskier! You look much happier today."

Jaskier blushed, causing Lambert and Eskel to laugh quietly. Geralt smirked before correcting himself and smacking the two on the shoulders. Jaskier went to sit with Coën, causing the man's smile to broaden.

"Hey!" Lambert grumbled.

"You're playing Gwent! Who's winning? What's the wager?" Geralt got behind Lambert and studied his deck.

"You better not help him cheat," the redhead warned but he showed Geralt his cards.

"What's Gwent?" Jaskier asked innocently. The witchers stopped and stared at him.

"Geralt, you idiot, you never explained Gwent to Jaskier!" Eskel shook his head at Geralt in shock and betrayal. "You aren't a true fan."

"There aren't any good players anymore! I don't play the game, except when I'm here," Geralt waved a dismissive hand, a gesture that reminded Jaskier of Vesemir. He smiled fondly at his Witcher until Geralt started yelling like he'd lost his mind. "Lambert, why did you put down that card!"

"Shut the fuck up! I'm playing with Eskel, not you!" Lambert countered hotly.

"Yeah, that was a dumb move," Eskel grinned smugly and placed down two cards in quick succession.

"What's Gwent?" Jaskier asked the only sane Witcher left.

"It's a really addicting card game, but Geralt's right. People don't really play it anymore. If you want, I could teach you?" Coën offered tentatively. Jaskier wondered what he did that Coën was acting a little more reserved around him.

"Alright! Then, I can beat Geralt at this game!"

Coën smiled indulgently. "Geralt's the best and most aggressive player I've ever seen. Good luck."

Lambert lost to Eskel and before Geralt started another round the winner, Jaskier convinced the group to eat something first. Lambert managed to scrounge up a meal consisting of hearty bread, cheese, fruit, and vegetables.

As they ate, Geralt and Eskel playfully picked on Lambert's Gwent skills. Then, they started on his cooking skills, and Geralt wondered what creative dish the youngest witcher was going to come up with for dinner. Apparently, Lambert once made an "interesting" pie that made them all gag from smell alone. Eskel was the only one who ate it and thought it was pretty good once he got past the smell.

Jaskier was usually in the middle of every social function, but he found himself observing this group. It was fascinating to see Geralt being the more talkative one and joking and laughing openly. He loved seeing this new side of him. He also noticed that Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert seemed a lot more comfortable with each other than with Coën, but the dark-skinned witcher remained cheerful and amicable.

"So, what did the School of the Griffin think of all this Consort mess?" Lambert asked with his mouth full of bread.

Coën swallowed before answering. "We were always a little bit more open with our heats, but I've never heard of Consorts. I never knew someone like Jaskier was a possibility," he smiled at the Bard.

“School of the Griffin? I thought you were all wolves,” Jaskier asked curiously.

“Not me,” Coën pointed to his ever-present medallion, which Jaskier noticed was not a wolf but a Griffin. “I’m originally from Kaer Seren in Kovir.”

Jaskier's mouth fell open in shock. “Wow, that’s far. What brings you here?”

“Well, Kaer Seren is gone,” Coën shrugged and looked down at his plate. “A powerful group of mages stormed the keep and killed nearly everyone in it. Then, they destroyed the building along with our immense library. So, I winter here with the wolves.”

His heat ached for his new friend. Jaskier continued reaching a new level of disappointment and disgust at the hatred and fear that these witchers faced from everyone. And if those slaughtered Witchers were half the men that these in front of him were, then the world had suffered a tremendous loss without knowing it. Jaskier wanted to ask more questions about the different schools and fortresses, but an air of tension settled on the group. He kept quiet. Lambert didn’t follow his example and continued the previous topic of discussion.

"So, the School of the Griffin, known for hoarding all types of knowledge, didn’t know about Consorts. What did you and Vesemir find out?" Lambert directed his question at Eskel.

"Why are you so curious about this?" Geralt frowned as he reached for more fruit. "I should be asking all the questions."

"Because this affects all of us!" Lambert pointed at Geralt. "You sit there, with your cute little Consort, getting to chug your honeyed milk whenever you want. Well, maybe I want my own honeyed milk."

"This isn't some type of competition, Lambert. It's not all roses and sunshine and frankly, this bond is not something I would have chosen for myself in a million years," Geralt told the Witchers firmly. He lowered his eyes when Jaskier gave him a sad, resigned smile.

"Honeyed milk?" Coën asked in the brief silence that followed.

Lambert cleared his throat. "It's what he smells like. Honeyed milk. I love that stuff."

“Are you an infant?” Eskel scoffed.

"No, Jaskier smells like freshly baked cake," Coën winked at the Bard.

"You're wrong, he smells like sweet bread," Eskel smirked.

"Ugh, can you all stop smelling me?" Jaskier shuddered. "I only want Geralt to do that."

The Witchers laughed.

"You smell like things we like so we would like you, too, " Lambert said slowly as if coming to a realization. "Maybe without this bond crap that you have with Geralt, we wouldn't even be able to stand you."

Lambert managed to hit on a fear that Jaskier didn't even know he had. Was this was some type of weird biological thing? If he had met Coën or Eskel, or even Lambert, in some tavern, would they even give him a second glance? What did that mean for him and Geralt? For the first time, he felt a little shaken in his resolve to keep this bond.

Geralt sensed that he was upset, but didn’t fully understand why, so he stood and grabbed Lambert by his shirt, dragging him to his feet. "You better stop talking."

"Why? Because I'm saying what we're all thinking?" Lambert pushed him away roughly, causing Geralt to crash against the stove. He stabbed a finger in Jaskier's direction. "Who's this stranger who walks in here and suddenly we are all so happy and singing sappy songs with him? Nobody else here finds it suspicious that we don’t question it? Think of our history! We're almost extinct because of crap like this!"

"Lambert, shut it!" Coën yelled and moved to shield the Bard with his body. “Jaskier has treated us with more respect and kindness than any person I’ve met outside of these walls. He deserves that and more in return, especially after putting up with Geralt’s nonsense.”

Geralt frowned. Eskel leaned back on his chair, looking bored, but his hands were free and his boots firmly planted on the ground, prepared to step in and subdue one of his brothers if the argument escalated.

"You all want to bury your head in the clouds and trust blindly, but I'm not going to fall for it. I refuse!" He directed the last part towards the Bard.

Even though his words hurt, Jaskier knew that Lambert spoke the truth. These men didn't really know him and trust shouldn't be awarded that easily or else it was fake. That meant that as soon as Geralt dropped him and decided that this bond was too much for him, his new friends would drop him, too. But Jaskier was a stubborn fighter. He remembered when Geralt tried to get rid of him in the early part of their friendship because he was frustrated with the noisy bard. But Jaskier refused to leave. He kept coming back, and he needed some of that tenacious spirit right now.

Jaskier stood up and walked around Coën’s tense body just as Geralt readied a fist to throw at his redheaded brother. "Geralt, it's alright. Lambert is not saying anything that not's true." He looked over at the other witchers with their strange amber eyes and mysterious ways. "I have a lot of prove to you all. If this bond forces you to trust me just like that, then I don't want it. I'm going to prove that I belong with you, and with Geralt."

Geralt gave him a rare smile filled with soft adoration. He got that same smile when Geralt woke up from his heat and saw that Jaskier was still there. He sensed amazement and pride ...and Jaskier hoped and prayed with all this heart that he was right about the last emotion, love.

“My siren, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone," Geralt replied softly, staring into Jaskier's blue eyes.

Before the Bard could respond, Vesemir stepped into the kitchen, "Oh good, you're all here." He looked over the men in the room and snorted. "If you're done with your cock-sizing contest, come to the classroom. I'm done looking through the books and have some things to share. You too, Jaskier." Vesemir nodded at the bard before leaving as abruptly as he came.

The men stared at each other awkwardly. Eskel stood up to leave.

"I think I have the biggest cock," Lambert said with a mischievous smile. Some of the tension left the room when most of them smiled and laughed at that.

"Right. Everyone knows that I have the biggest cock," Geralt strutted proudly to Jaskier and wrapped his arm around his waist.

"I hope that's true or I chose the wrong witcher," Jaskier grinned and leaned up to kiss his sulk away.

"It is true but it remains to be seen whether you chose the right witcher." Coën smirked before leaving.

"Fuck," Jaskier muttered and rested his head on Geralt's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed reading this, please review and/or kudos. Constructive criticism is always good! It makes me a stronger writer.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	5. Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for the reviews and kudos! I love seeing them.
> 
> We are nearing the end of this story. It's been an incredible writing journey, and I can't wait to finish it.

The classroom didn't look like a classroom but a war room. Swords, maces, shields, and all other kinds of weapons were hung around the room or stashed in the corners. Only in the very back was a large bookcase filled with books and scrolls, but the number of weapons in the classroom definitely outweighed the number of books.

The witchers kneeled on the floor in front of Vesemir, forming a half circle. Jaskier sat in the space left open between Geralt and Eskel. The stone floor was too hard on his knees, so he crossed his legs instead. Vesemir looked up from the ancient book he had been reading.

"This brings back memories," he said fondly at the small group.

"Is there a quiz after this?" Lambert asked dryly. The witchers plus the sole human laughed.

"Actually, there is," Vesemir said and the laughter stopped. "If you fail, you're going to have to run the Killer," the oldest witcher paused. "Naked."

From the groans that the statement caused, Jaskier guessed that this "Killer" was correctly named. Good thing he had always been good at his lessons. Whenever he could shut up and pay attention, that is. Coën looked similarly confident from the small smile on his face, while Geralt and Lambert became tenser. Eskel chuckled at the challenge.

Vesemir straightened his stance and stared at each person sternly. "I want you all to hear this because I don't want anyone else to make Geralt's and Jaskier's mistake. Our heats are no joke, it's not a fairy tale, and you all need this information to make an informed decision when your heat comes again."

"Vesemir, I don't get my heats anymore," Eskel interrupted.

Vesemir stared at him. "You can still get your heat, Eskel, if you meet the right person. Interrupt me again and you'll start the Killer first."

Eskel's tanned skin toned paled considerably. Jaskier would bet money that it was over the first threat.

"I guess, we'll start there. Our heats are driven by a biological need to procreate and create a community. We are sterile, so witchers have always dismissed the heats as an adverse side effects of the mutagens. But the more I read about this, the more I think they were wrong. These heats can led us to procreate."

Vesemir picked up another heavy, ancient book. Jaskier felt a wave of horror from Geralt and turned to see him staring at Jaskier's stomach. "In the 9th century, there were five consorts reported living at Kaer Morhen with their witcher mates with an estimate of 35 witchers active in the area. In the 10th century, twelve active consorts with 85 active witchers. In the 11th, there were two with 18 active witchers. For some reason, where there are consorts, the number of witchers rises."

Coën raised a hand. Jaskier stifled a laugh when he saw Lambert mumbling to himself, trying to remember the dates and numbers.

"Coën, I like how the School of the Griffin instilled a stricter classroom ettiequte," Vesemir nodded at the bearded man. Eskel still looked like he was in shock.

"Shouldn't it be that where there are witchers, there are consorts and not the other way around?"

"Good question. I would agree with that if it wasn't for a few instances where the number of consorts went up before the number of witchers did. In the 10th century, the twelve Consorts came first, then a slew of boys who successfully became witchers," Vesemir stabbed the ancient, crumbling text with his index finger. "They had the highest rate of transformation survival in the history of Kaer Morhen."

Geralt reached over and grabbed his hand without looking at the Bard. Jaskier knew that he was thinking of all those boys who died during the Trials.

"Yes, Eskel?"

"So, hypothetically speaking, if we still had the mutagen potions and I brought in here a young boy to train him to be a witcher, he would have a higher chance of survival because Jaskier's here?" He asked with a frown.

"Yes," Vesemir nodded. Jaskier gripped Geralt's hand. Fuck, that sounded like a lot of responsibility. "Theoretically, that would led to more witchers, those witchers undergoing their heats, more consorts, higher numbers of witchers, and the circle continues. Now, here come the bad news." He paused and glanced at Jaskier before looking away.

"We are a dying breed. We have a consort among us, but we haven't followed the correct rituals and steps needed to protect the bond."

"What are these rituals?" Coën asked after raising his hand again.

"I won't go into details. But there's a mating ritual, similar to a human wedding, that allows for more control of the bond. Because consorts have so much power over the witchers, there's a ritual about selecting the right one. There are rituals to protect consorts from any negative effects of the bond."

"Can something happen to Jaskier?" Geralt interrupted, uncaring of Vesemir's glare.

"Technically no, but there are serious side effects. To protect consorts, the bond gives them our superior healing and extends their lifespan. As far as I can tell, a witcher can only have one consort in his lifetime and vice versa. If Geralt were to die, Jaskier would die, too."

"Shit," Lambert muttered.

Jaskier gripped Gerat's hand even tighter. He raised his hand.

Vesemir nodded in approval. "Yes?"

"What if I died before Geralt?" Somehow, his question raised the tension among the group. The witchers looked around as if there was a present danger lurking in the room. Geralt pulled Jaskier into his lap and sat crossed legged underneath him.

After making visible effort to relax, Vesemir waited for the men to focus again. "The witcher still survives. There has been one case that I know of where a consort died before their mate. It's hard for a consort to die unless attacked, and that is exactly what happened. For consorts, the super-healing abilities make them impervious to most diseases and heals their wounds faster. So, the most common way for them to go is through their mate, when the witcher meets his end on the Path."

Vesemir cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Barmin was my old mentor, and he had a consort, Ophelia. There weren't many of them at that time, and a human group of fanatics attacked them and two other witchers while they were visiting a town. Barmin lost Ophelia that day and was never the same. He kind of wasted away. We weren't strong enough to protect her then and we aren't strong enough to protect Jaskier now."

He seemed to lose energy and settled himself on the floor, kneeling like his former students. "In this keep, we are only five witchers. When winter is over, I'm the only one who stays behind and everyone else will leave to follow the Path. If one human or a troublesome mage figures out what Jaskier means to Geralt or starts asking questions about Jaskier's slow aging or his healing, we'll have a terrible problem on our hands. It won't take them long to make the connections and figure out that witchers can bond and have heats. Then, we'll have our enemies exploiting this weakness and perhaps trying to hurt or kidnap Jaskier. Bottom line, we don't have the power or resources to protect him. And based on all that noise that I've been hearing lately, you've been feeling a connection to him, right?"

Some reluctant nods.

Vesemir sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. "It's normal. It's what's supposed to happen when a consort meets a group of witchers who has earned his mate's trust, like another layer of protection. Now, imagine if a greedy king kidnapped Jaskier and ordered you to betray our code in exchange for Jaskier's safety. Who here will risk his life to uphold everything we stand for?"

Coën kept his head down with his hands clenched tight on his lap, Lambert and Eskel stayed quiet, while Geralt kept nuzzling the back of Jaskier's neck as if seeking comfort. Jaskier had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Vesemir nodded slowly as if confirming a theory. "If we aren't careful, a group could control us all and finish the witchers for good."

"Is there anything we could do to stay safe?" Jaskier asked, heart pounding hard in his chest.

"Stay here in the keep, perhaps. But that's not a life for a young man."

"And walking on the Path with me is?" Geralt asked this question into Jaskier's hair and low enough for the Bard to understand that the question was intended for him.

"Eskel? What did you find out about breaking the bond?" Vesemir nodded gravely when Eskel gave him a questioning look.

Eskel glanced at Jaskier and Geralt before speaking, "It's actually a very simple process. Two potions- one to silence the connection for a period of time, not sure for how long it lasts. Another potion to break it, permanently."

In the heavy silence that followed, Eskel closed his eyes and added, "I can make them. In about a month's time."

When Vesemir spoke, Jaskier could hear the regret in his voice. "I'll leave the final decision to you two, but it's not safe for this bond." He raised his voice to the group, "Think about all this before one of you tries to share your heat with someone. It could mean the end of us all."

Vesemir dismissed them without giving them the quiz. Jaskier immediately went to their bedroom and Geralt followed. Even though it wasn't evening yet, Jaskier was mentally exhausted, so he got undressed and crawled underneath the covers.

"What do you think about all that?" Geralt asked hesitantly to the man shaped lump on the bed.

"I think I need some time to process it. Please, love?"

"Sure," Geralt patted him on the leg before he left, his footsteps trailing down the stairs.

Jaskier had plenty to mull over and decide. He loved Geralt, loved everything about him, and this bond to him was a godsend because he hadn't realize how lonely he had been. It felt so right to him that the thought of ripping this connection out of his being felt like he was losing a vital organ in his body. It didn't feel like a mistake but Vesemir and the others saw it like that. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Geralt and the witchers. But that's what was going to happen if he stayed with this bond.

He didn't know how long he laid there before a quiet "Hello" and a knock on the door interrupted him. Coën stood awkwardly in the doorway.

Jaskier realized that he was naked underneath the covers and carefully sat up. "Hello Coën, just let me get dressed."

"Alright," Coën waited and Jaskier waited for the man to turn around. Finally, the Bard made a gesture, and Coën turned himself around in confusion. Jaskier chuckled as he dressed. The witchers were probably not used to being modest. He remembered the first time he and Geralt shared a room together and the Witcher casually took off his clothes and walked around naked, while Jaskier tried not to stare at him too much.

"I'm done," he grinned when the Witcher entered the room.

"I came to check on you. Maybe you could use someone else to talk to, besides Geralt." Coën chuckled and walked over to the window where the sun ray's were fading. Jaskier sat back down on the rumpled sheets of the bed.

"What's going on between you and Geralt? You don't like him?" Jaskier secretly wondered if he had anything to do with this slight animosity.

"No, I like him fine. He can just be a little too arrogant and sanctimonious, sometimes. You know, he's got it all- looks, brains, and now fame because your song," Coën tipped his head at him and leaned against the window.

"You've heard it?"

"Too many times," Coën smiled. "I think you're good for him. He's a little more humble now, more open. Definitely happier."

"Coën, if I ask you something, please give me the truth, alright? Tell it to me like it is." Jaskier pleaded.

Coën straightened. "Of course."

"Should I break this bond with Geralt?" He shivered and not from the cold.

Coën studied him closely with his warm amber gaze for a few seconds. "I can't answer that question. All I know is that you belong with us. And with Geralt," he rolled his eyes at the other witcher's name.

"Yeah?"

"Don't let Vesemir's fears ruin your happiness. I respect that man, but he's so negative. You were brought here for a reason, Jaskier, so do what makes you happy," evidently not seeing what he was looking for in Jaskier's expression, Coën tried again.

"I still don't think you understand how special you are, that's why Vesemir is so afraid that others will see that too. The chances of one of us stumbling on someone who checks off all the requirements to survive a Witcher's Heat is incredible. And," he raised his voice, "you did that without any fancy ritual or ceremony. And," he paused for dramatic effect, "you did it with Geralt, the Witcher with very intense trust issues! So I stand behind whatever you decide." Coën gave him another bright smile.

"Thanks friend," Jaskier gave him a relieved smile. Impulsively, he stood up and threw his arms around Coën. The witcher became rigid underneath his touch for a few moments before melting and hugging him back tightly.

They heard shouts and screams coming from outside.

"Are we under attack?" Jaskier released his friend and got behind him.

"No," Coën squinted at something out the window. "Eskel failed the quiz."

"What? I thought Vesemir cancelled it." He looked out the window to see a tiny, naked figure racing down an icy path. He disappeared into a tree line.

"He did, but Lambert was acting like Lambert and bragging about how he would have aced the quiz. Vesemir decided to give it to us, 5 questions about Witcher's Heats." Coën proudly lifted his head. "I got a five out of five, course. At Kaer Seren, the trainers would whip us if we didn't study and ace all the lessons. That's why we were known as the smartest witchers."

"Umm, that's a little fucked up. Wait, who's that?" Jaskier pointed to the other figure racing down the same path.

"Oh, Lambert failed, too. I guess Kaer Morhen had lower standards," Coën sniffed. Jaskier wondered if the Witcher realized who was being arrogant and sanctimonious now.

Standing this close to Coën, he realized that the other man had deep pockets of scars on his cheeks and jaw, right underneath the thick bread. As if the man had suffered from the pox has a child.

"Oh, fuck!" Coën exclaimed, leaning out the window.

"What, what is it?" Jaskier looked around. 

"Geralt failed too!" He pointed to the third figure running along the same path.

Jaskier couldn't help but laugh. "What kind of quiz was this?"

Coën shrugged. "Mostly about numbers. I think Vesemir was just in a bad mood."

Jaskier convinced Coën to help him make a simple vegetable soup with the leftover lunch for the frozen failures. When they stumbled inside the keep, dressed and tinged blue with cold, Geralt complained very loudly that a four out of five wasn't failing.

Sulking, Geralt ate with the others, who were all grateful for something hot to warm their frozen bodies.

"I hadn't done that since I was a trainee," Lambert grouched.

"I think my balls froze and fell off," Geralt grumbled, pride still hurting.

"Don't worry, love, I'll find them later," Jaskier sent a saucy winked his way and the men laughed when Geralt's cheeks reddened with pleased embarrassment.

Later that night, Jaskier did indeed help warm up Geralt and paid special attention to his abused balls. Then, he rode his Witcher until they both yelled out their release into the warm air of their room.

For the next week, Jaskier and Geralt settled into an uneasy but uncomplicated routine. They bathed together in the mornings, then ate with the other witchers in the kitchen. Sometimes, Vesemir ate with them. Then, they broke off into various trainings and activities. Coën started to teach Jaskier how to play Gwent, but he wasn't very good at the game because he lacked the patience for strategy. Lambert frequently offered to play with him because he always defeated the Bard.

When they weren't playing, the witchers were training. Vesemir always appeared for training exercises and had even begun to teach Jaskier how to defend himself with a blade. Lambert also offered himself as an opponent and was happy to defeat Jaskier over and over again. For dinner, various members of the group would get together and Jaskier had yet to convince them to play something else other than Gwent as an after-dinner game. Even Vesemir approved of the card game and was the only one Geralt could never defeat.

Jaskier knew it was time to approach the subject that he and Geralt had been avoiding. And he needed to do it soon because of the events he'd already set in motion.

After a vigorous and very naughty training exercise of their own, Geralt and Jaskier laid intertwined on their bed. Naked and languidly resting on Geralt's bare chest, Jaskier asked, "Geralt, do you really want to break this bond?"

He felt his Witcher stiffen underneath him. "What brought that on?" He asked with a frown.

Jaskier kissed his cooling chest soothingly. "We have to make a decision soon, right? I know the bond stresses you. And most of your reasons are about me. But what about you? If we broke this bond in one month, would you care?"

He felt a deep sadness in his Witcher but wanted Geralt to explain his emotions with his words. Jaskier mentally readied himself for a long, painful process, but his Witcher must have been practicing because he started off smoothly, "I never thought anything like this would happen to me. Ever since my mother abandoned me with Vesemir, it's been hard to be truly happy," Geralt brought his arm up to touch Jaskier's back. "And as a witcher, my life is about the Path and waiting to die on it. But," Geralt let out a breath and kissed Jaskier's forehead, "you've shown me that my life doesn't just have to be about loneliness and death. And this past week or so with you in the keep, you've reminded me about the good things that I have with my fellow witchers. You've been my friend and my partner for so many years, Jaskier, and I can't imagine being without you for long. I belong with you, Jaskier, if you'll still have me."

Jaskier wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye and sniffed. "Fuck, you're making me cry." They laughed a little. "Geralt, I love you so much, so fucking much! You're strong, brave, a little rough around the edges," he chuckled when Geralt playfully slapped his ass. "You're also the kindest person I know, and I've seen a different side of you here that made me fall in love with you all over again." He kissed the corner of his smiling mouth, then let his forehead fall into his Witcher's neck. Fuck, this was so hard. "I know how much your freedom means to you. I know you hated having your choice taken from you when you were young and that a part of you will always resent the witchers and Vesemir for that. You know it's true, love." He kissed Geralt on the mouth when he tried to protest.

He broke the sweet contact and sat up. Geralt copied him and grabbed his hand. "This is what I think will happen. We'll be happy for a few years, then at some point you're going to resent me and resent that I forced this bond on you." Even though his eyes burned, he refused to let more tears fall.

Geralt gave him a concerned look. "Jaskier, you didn't force anything on me. You're an innocent in all this. Now, let's go sleep," he tried to pull Jaskier back into his arms, trying to steer the conversation away from its inevitable path.

The Bard grabbed his hands and held them against his chest. "You'll hate me, Geralt, because you didn't chose me."

"That doesn't matter! I'm choosing you right now," Geralt tried to pull his hands from Jaskier's surprisingly strong grip.

"None of you chose me," Jaskier continued as if he hadn't been interrupted and he wasn't feeling the sinking desperation of Geralt's emotions. "And if I learned one thing over my stay here is that choice is just as important as biology. Geralt, we have to break this bond."

"Jaskier, no. I chose you to be my mate, my consort," Geralt pleaded in a tone that Jaskier had never heard the proud Witcher use.

A searing pain in his chest almost prevented him from speaking, but Jaskier breathed through it and said, "Your biology chose me, love. Maybe if you had spent more time with her, you'd have picked Yennefer."

Geralt shook his head vigorously, then touched his forehead to Jaskier's. "No, I don't want her, I want you."

"But we'll never know if it's you talking or the bond. And I'll never-" Jaskier lost his ability to speak for a moment and kissed Geralt's hands reverently. "I'll never forgive myself if I had taken away your freewill when I had the power to change it. It's not fair, love."

"And this is fair?" Geralt untangled himself from Jaskier and put his pants on.

Before he walked out, Jaskier added tonelessly, "I've already asked Eskel to make the potion. It'll be ready in about three weeks."

Geralt stood in the doorway for a few moments, refusing to look at Jaskier. He left.

He laid down on the rumbled sheets that smelled like him and Geralt and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to review and/or kudos! It inspires me to see that people enjoy this story as much as I do.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and for being amazing!


	6. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well. Sending positive energy your way!
> 
> This was a hard chapter to write, but I think I also wrote a great sexy times scene! Let me know what you think of this story. 
> 
> I appreciate all the people who keep reviewing and have followed this story since the beginning. You're amazing people!

Geralt practiced his punches and kicks on a straw dummy with a metal helmet in the upstairs training hall, the one farthest away from the main area. He could feel Jaskier somewhere in the building and that he was sad and frustrated about something. 

He threw a powerful punch to the dummy's head that sent the helmet rolling on the floor, only to stop next to Vesemir's boots.

"That was a very good," Vesemir picked up the helmet and approached him.

"I don't want to talk," Geralt grumbled as he swept stray strands of hair away from his eyes.

"Who says anything about you talking? I just want you to listen," Vesemir jammed the helmet head back on the dummy. "You're being an ass."

"Because I want to keep the one thing that's making me happy?" He slammed his fist into the metal, satisfied to see the large dent and feel the pain in his hand.

"Because you're just thinking of yourself! You're doing that a lot lately," Vesemir nodded when Geralt scoffed. "That young man has more bravery in his pinky than you do in your entire body! Fuck, son, what are you thinking? That you could keep him with you on the Path? Have him waiting for you with a home-cooked meal when you come home from a hunt?"

"Yes!" Geralt roared, turning to face Vesemir. "He was always around. I couldn't get rid of him in the beginning and then, I didn't want to anymore. He kept coming back to me. He let me believe I could have more!"

The older Witcher gentled his voice, "It's one thing to travel as someone's companion and another as their mate for life. Geralt, it's selfish to be angry at him for making the best decision for us all."

"He thinks he took away my freewill. That I didn't choose him," he muttered, losing the desire for a fight. "I thought maybe this time I could have one good thing in my life that made all the pain and loneliness worth it." He dropped his body on the floor and brought his knees up to his chest. 

Vesemir sat down beside him. They shared a silence for a few minutes. "I found you just like this," he gestured to Geralt's form, "hiding in one of the barns right after I brought you into Kaer Morhen. Remember that?"

"No," Geralt loosened his tight stance and turned to face his mentor. He rarely talked about the past. Geralt thought it was because the memories were too painful. 

"You disappeared for an entire day. Sorel and a few others joined me on the search. We couldn't find a trace of your scent anywhere. What a troublesome child you were!" Vesemir chuckled.

"I still am," Geralt smiled. 

"Of course!" Vesemir tapped Geralt's shoulder with his. "I finally found you in the barn, curled up in a corner, fast asleep. You were covered in mud, that's what was blocking your scent."

"Did you give me a good spanking?" 

"No," Vesemir smiled softly. "I gave you a bath and listened to you prattle about dragons and fairies or whatever foolishness. You kept asking for your mother, you were so worried about her."

"You let me stay with you that night," Geralt said slowly, shifting through his memories. Witchers had excellent memories, but it was harder to remember pre-Trials. He recalled alternatively babbling and crying against a hard, masculine chest. He hadn't wanted to sleep with the other boys in the dormitory. Some of the others called him a crybaby and mama's boy when he just wanted to go home. 

Vesemir nodded. "The other boys came from hard lives. Their parents practically threw them on the doorsteps of Kaer Morhen, and they were happy to get free meals and a clean bed. You were different. This life was hard for you to accept. And I felt responsible."

They sat in silence again, and Vesemir broke it once more. "I told you all that because you are my one good thing. When you survived the Trials, I felt all the pain and grief I had lived through was worth it to see you live."

Geralt didn't know what to say, he had no idea that the other Witcher felt that strongly towards him. Witchers were so adept at hiding their emotions from the world, that they hid them from each other too well. He smiled faintly and pressed his shoulder and arm against Vesemir's sturdy warmth. 

The anger that he felt towards Jaskier's decision ebbed out of him as he sat in silence with his mentor and adopted father. He was still angry at life or destiny or whatever deity cared about the pitiful lives of witchers for taking this away from him. Destiny robbed him from his mother's embrace but gave him a gruff, but quietly loving father who had to subject his adopted son to torture. Destiny gave him a livelihood and purpose but had to make him pay for it with the death of his friends and fellow trainees. Destiny gave him Jaskier and showed him the sweetness and happiness of a life that could have been, but Destiny will take it from him and make him face the rest of his days alone.

He couldn't feel angry at Jaskier because there were no right or wrong choices in this life, just people trying to do their best with the cards they were dealt.

"I think I love him, Vesemir," Geralt confessed.

Vesemir stirred besides him slowly, Geralt thought he was falling asleep. "Why are you telling me? Tell him."

"Does it matter?" Geralt grumbled.

"Despite what he thinks, the bond doesn't magically create feelings in people," he patted Geralt on the knee and stood up slowly. 

"Can you tell him that?" Geralt asked without really believing he would get the answer he wanted. 

"If you need your old mentor to convince your lover that your feelings are true, then you have a bigger problem, son," Vesemir held out a hand and helped Geralt to his feet. "Love is a choice, and you chose to love that young man," Vesemir squeezed the other's shoulder firmly. "Show it to him. When the bond is broken, you'll still have each other. Show him that you choose him."

"Thanks," Geralt smiled fondly at the older, wrinkled face and felt grateful for his presence in his life. He frowned, remembering something. "Will the potion be safe for him to drink?"

His mentor nodded. "It's a simple enough potion and shouldn't have negative effects on humans. It just has a long seeping period. Eskel knows more about that magical stuff, so I told him to do it."

"He would have been a mage if life hadn't chosen this for him," Geralt shuddered. He wasn't sure which one was worse. 

"We should work on those punches. I think you're aim is off," Vesemir frowned when Geralt groaned. "What?"

Geralt sighed. Vesemir was and forever will be a teacher and trainer. He did it for the majority of his life at Kaer Morhen and it was as ingrained in him as being a witcher. 

"Nothing, I'll show you off aim," he readied his fighting stance as Vesemir looked on.

That night, he went back to the room he shared with Jaskier and left the old, dusty trainee room he had been using for past two days. When he stepped into the room, he was surprised to see Coën reading on a wooden chair beside the bed. Jaskier looked to be asleep, he was laying on his side, his back to Geralt.

Coën looked up from his book. Seeing who it was, his usually friendly expression darkened. Quietly, he stood up and placed the book on the empty chair and stalked towards where Geralt was standing. 

"Hurt him again, and I'll show you why griffins are more fearsome than even dragons," Coën slammed his shoulder as he walked out. 

Geralt clenched his fists but let it go. 

"Coën?" Jaskier stirred on their bed. 

"He left, it's me," Geralt stated awkwardly from the doorway. He wasn't sure if he was welcomed.

Jaskier sat up and turned to Geralt. The witcher wanted to punch something again, preferably himself- the human's blue eyes were red and slightly swollen in a wane and colorless face. His honeyed dandelion scent was muted.

"I know I look like a mess right now," he chuckled dryly. "Coën was so worried that he stayed with me until I fell asleep. What's funny is that Lambert offered to do the same thing."

"What's wrong, siren?" Geralt pushed aside his awkwardness and moved forward to kneel beside the bed, next to Jaskier's side.

"I don't know, it's like my body knows that something is wrong, like I did something wrong and-" Jaskier's words dissolved into sobs. Geralt touched his thin hand and concentrated on the bond. His siren was in so much pain- physical and emotional. It was as if he were punishing himself for choosing to break this bond.

"Fuck, Jaskier, why didn't you tell me?" Did his own anger cloud his ability to properly sense his mate? He knew Jaskier was feeling negative emotions but he'd dismissed them, assuming that he couldn't be feeling worse than Geralt was. 

"I thought," Jaskier hiccuped, "you knew and didn't care. Fuck, Geralt, it hurts so much. Please help."

He couldn't resist those wet cornflower blue eyes and the pain filled voice. Geralt stood up smoothly and quickly got undressed, knowing that skin-to-skin contact would help the bond. He got into bed behind Jaskier and gathered his warm body into his arms. Jaskier laid his head on his chest and sighed out some of the tension in his muscles. 

Geralt rubbed his cheek against the man's soft, brown hair and caressed his freckled back and felt something inside him ease as well. He couldn't imagine being without his siren for long, bond or no.

"Jaskier, stop hurting yourself. I'm sorry. The decision should have been something that we decided together, not you shouldering this burden alone," Geralt kissed the top of his head a few times. 

"I didn't really give you a choice. Fuck, I'm a hypocrite! I took away your freedom when I wanted you to have it," Jaskier nuzzled his face into Geralt's scarred skin and laid a kiss on an old scar near his heart. "I don't want to hurt you, love, but no matter what I do, that's what happens."

"I'm not angry, I'm not hurt anymore, because I get it." Geralt took a deep breath. "You thought about me and made your choice out of love. I got caught up in thinking about myself and my pain, and I stopped thinking about all the consequences. Once Vesemir helped me get my head out of my own ass, I realized that this is the right thing to do. For all of us."

Jaskier kissed his chest again and hugged him around the waist, "I love you, Geralt."

"And I love you, siren." Geralt felt Jaskier tense in surprise. "I know that I have to prove it to you. Love is a choice and I chose you, Jaskier, bond or no bond."

Jaskier surged up, straddling his waist, and kissed him wetly on the lips. "Fuck me, you're perfect, Geralt."

Geralt grinned against his lips, "Hmm." He took hold of his ass with two hands and massaged them roughly through the pants.

Jaskier couldn't help but push back against his hands with a little whimper. "Not what I meant, Geralt, but this is good, too."

"Bond or no, I'll never get tired of this ass." He gave it one last squeeze before grabbing Jaskier around the waist and turning them around. He gently dropped him on the bed and settled between his slacked thighs. 

The scent of sun-kissed dandelions and honeysuckle intensified as he worshipped his siren's bare torso. He licked around pebbling brown nipples, relishing the gasps and moans he coaxed out of their owner. Finally, he took one into his mouth and sucked hard on the delicious firm nub.

"Geralt, please, love," Jaskier raised his hips and rubbed them against Geralt. 

Geralt growled and pulled away from his tasty treat. He pushed Jaskier's hips back on the bed. "I'm going to make you cry for it tonight," he pinched his shiny nipple and felt the Bard's arousal rise at the sinful mix of pain and pleasure.

"Geralt," Jaskier whimpered.

"You want punishment? I'm going to punish you all night long," Geralt threatened silkily and dipped his head to suck at the neglected twin nipple. With the tip of his tongue, he left the now blushing nub and traveled to Jaskier's belly. His tongue followed the faint trail heading south and paused when it met cloth. 

"Yes, yes, yes," Jaskier chanted when Geralt mouthed the erection visible through the thin pants. He felt trembling hands thread through his hair and gathered them up in a tight fist. "Pull me out and take me in your mouth."

Geralt slowly lowered the pants and revealed Jaskier's rosy penis with its weeping head. He ran the flat of his tongue over the head and moaned at his siren's taste and smell. 

"Take me in your mouth, Geralt. Please," Jaskier whined when Geralt ignored his requests and focused on teasing him with his tongue. The Witcher reached his balls and began to taste them with small licks when he felt Jaskier pull on his hair.

He let himself get redirected to his cock and opened his mouth to let Jaskier push the head past his lips. He tightened his mouth around the erection and sucked on it firmly.

"Fuck, Geralt, yeah," Jaskier looked down and Geralt made sure to keep his eyes solely on his as his head bobbed over his cock. "You're so hot, oh fuck, fuck," Jaskier kept muttering a mixture of gibberish and praise with a sprinkling of "fuck."

Geralt waited for Jaskier's hand to loosen, and he pulled himself away with a guttural command, "Take off your pants."

Jaskier immediately slipped his pants down his legs and threw them off the bed. He laid back down on the bed, legs spread wantonly, cock shiny with Geralt's spit and standing at attention. He waited for his lover's next move. 

Geralt caressed the supple skin and the fine hairs that covered his thighs. He leaned in and closed his eyes to scent the musky flavor of Jaskier's arousal coupled with his natural scent.

"Geralt, please. I can't stand it!" And he could feel the need and slow burn rising in his siren's body. It rekindled the flame in his own body, but he took and released a deep breath to keep it low. There was one spot he still hadn't tasted yet. He licked his index finger and pressed it to the entrance behind his lover's balls.

"Mmm, right there! Geralt, I need you right there," Jaskier tried to fuck himself desperately on the finger but his Witcher pulled it out. "No, fuckm give me more!" 

Geralt kneeled on the floor besides the bed and pulled Jaskier's unresisting body towards him. He raised his hips and thumbed him open just enough for Geralt to see his puckered little hole. Then, Geralt dived in with his tongue. 

Jaskier wailed and withered so much in his grip that the Witcher had to pull him on his side with one leg raised so Geralt could have more control of his movements and still reach his asshole.

"Geralt, fuck me! Fuck me!" This became Jaskier's new chant as his hips canted towards his lover's face. 

Geralt bit the fleshy seat of the Bard's ass when he took himself in hand. Instead of returning to feast on his hole, Geralt pressed two fingers into him and batted the Bard's hands away. 

"I need to cum, I need to cum," Jaskier babbled breathlessly as he fisted the sheets around him.

There was one more thing that would send Jaskier over the edge. With a devilish grin, Geralt stood up, pushed Jaskier until he was flat on his back, and thrust inside of him in one strong, forceful push. From this position, he watched Jaskier's expressive face overcome with the sensations. The Bard had to close his eyes and his mouth hung open, speechless, as waves of pleasure and pain threatened to overwhelm him.

Using every bit of will force that he possessed, Geralt pulled out of his siren's tightness. Unable to resist, he spread his cheeks again and watched his hole twitch and clenched around the empty space he used to occupy. He had to look away quickly to stop himself from cumming too soon.

"Geralt!" Jaskier screamed in frustration. "What the fuck are you doing! Get the fuck in me!" He withered and slammed his fist on the bed. 

Through the twin haze of lust and need clouding his mind, Geralt tried to remember what he was trying to accomplish. He covered Jaskier's body with his, pressing his hands onto the bed. 

"Jaskier, look at me." His eyes were nearly black with lust. Geralt probably didn't look much better. "We're going to be ok, no matter what," he whispered against damp lips. Geralt released his hands to hold his head steady and swallowed his siren's whimpers and cries. 

His sneaky little siren took advantage of his distraction to twist his hips until the tip of Geralt's cock sank into him. Both of them groaned when they were joined once more. Geralt couldn't help but thrust up and fully seat himself in his rightful place and home. Driven by his own lust and Jaskier's desires, he set a brutal pace and fucked Jaskier into the mattress, his heavy balls slapping against his ass. His siren lay almost senseless underneath him. He gripped Geralt's bulky arms and his eyes rolled in the back of his head while his pink lips stretched out into an O. 

He had to bite himself on the arm to clear his head a little and not end this too soon. 

"Geralt, gods, Geralt," Jaskier was finally able to whisper, his voice gaining strength the closer Geralt fucked him towards release. "Geralt, you make me... too much! Fuck, you're too good!" His hands moved up to scratch at his shoulders and back.

With strength that he didn't know he possessed until that very moment, Geralt pulled himself out of Jaskier's tight warmth just before they both reached their peak. Not understanding what was happening, Jaskier thrashed beneath him, bitting and scratching at his upper body. 

To see him fall apart like that over his growing need almost did Geralt in but he had a larger goal in mind. The strong need from the bond wasn't enough to make Jaskier pass out again, but Geralt still had to be careful.

He rubbed their erections together and that calmed Jaskier enough for Geralt to capture his wrists and hold them captive above him.

"Jaskier, I'll make love to you just like this after we break the bond," Geralt whispered to his panting mate. "I love you." He kissed him on the lips and broke the contact once Jaskier started kissing him back. "Do you think you've been punished enough?" He asked with a sly grin.

"Yes, this hurts," Jaskier cried and tried again to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist, forcing the Witcher to remove one of his hands and push down the leg. The human used his freed hand to jerk his cock towards his clenching hole, but the Witcher captured his wrists again.

He needed to finish their little game soon, so he asked in a gravely voice, "Jaskier, what do you need?" 

"Fuck, Geralt! Me on your fucking cock getting the life fucked out of me! Why the fuck are you asking?" Jaskier yelled impatiently.

Geralt growled, quickly losing the last strands of his sanity. He loved hearing how much Jaskier wanted him. "I think you've been punished enough, siren, so it's time to give you what you want." With that, Geralt drove back into Jaskier and lost control of himself. He didn't hold back his supernatural strength and speed and let his body move as hard and fast as it wanted. Thanks to the bond, Jaskier's body was now sturdy enough to handle him at full strength. He could faintly hear his siren whimpering and yelling his name.

He came back to himself when he was roaring his release deep into Jaskier's ass, sweat dripping off his body. Jaskier looked dazed and blissed out underneath him, the evidence of his release painted on his abdomen with his legs slack around the Witcher's waist. A bruise was already fading on Jaskier's neck. Geralt pressed it with an unsteady thumb. 

"Stay inside me," Jaskier whispered when Geralt readied himself to pull out.

The Witcher nodded. "You feel better?" 

Jaskier rolled his eyes and replied hoarsely, "Yes, you cured me with your magical dick and cum." 

Geralt switched their positions smoothly, so that Jaskier was resting on his body and safe within the embrace of his arms. "It's not- alright, it's mystical."

Jaskier mumbled before drifting off, "I like your mystic dick." 

Geralt laughed.

\--

The next morning, Geralt and Jaskier were all smiles during breakfast. All the witchers, except for Eskel, responded with smiles of their own and became a little more relaxed around the pair. Jaskier noticed that Coën acted like his usual jovial self around him but glared at Geralt.

Jaskier also noticed that Eskel was a little more subdued until Geralt corner him after their meal. He couldn't hear what was said but his Witcher clapped Eskel on the back and the scarred man looked relieved. Jaskier smiled sadly. 

It was ironic how fast the days went by when Jaskier dreaded each one. Each morning brought him one step closer to breaking the most important thing in his life, and he just hoped that his relationship with Geralt could remain intact. No amount of reassurances could alleviate the fear that settled in the pit of his belly. He could sense the same fear and anxiety in Geralt, but he hid it better underneath long training sessions and his reserved nature.

Yet, Geralt couldn't help but keep ambushing Eskel about the potions as the weeks passed. He would ask Eskel the same question over and over again but phrased differently. Would it hurt Jaskier? Was it fit for a human to consume? Why two potions?

Eskel explained the process with infinite patience. He'd already explained it to Jaskier when the Bard asked him to make the potions. No, the potions wouldn't hurt him. There were two potions because the severing of the bond could be painful to the couple involved, so the first potion was a mercy to prevent the couple from experiencing the shock. Kind of like using alcohol to dull the pain when getting stitches. Only the non-witcher in the pairing needed to take the second potion because the bond had been attached to them by the mating witcher. Eskel emphasized that there shouldn't be side effects, except some soreness and mild disorientation. 

Geralt listened to his words again and again but Jaskier could feel the desperation burning a little hotter inside him. Even the brief accounts in the historical texts of mated pairings who had broken their bond for various reasons and survived, brought little comfort to either of them.

Jaskier tried to act happy and upbeat with the witchers, he wanted to charm the pants off each and everyone of them, so they could at least remains friends after the bond broke. Jaskier had no illusions that they would be as close as they were now. Just thinking about losing Coën's affection and finding out this cherished friendship was a twisted side effect of the bond cut him deeply and disturbed his dreams. Jaskier couldn't even seriously contemplate a change in his relationship with Geralt. The thought alone left him sick and shaken.

During the third week, Eskel announced in a quiet tone that the potion was ready. Silence reigned in the main hall, even Geralt paused in his Gwent match with Lambert. 

"Then, let's do it tomorrow! Maybe another party afterwards?" Jaskier's bravado rang false in his ears, but the witchers nodded and returned to their activities. 

Jaskier looked down at the lute in his hands and wondered what he was doing with it.

"What else, Jaskier?" Coën asked gently.

"Huh?"

"What else should I know?" Coën pointed to the lute. Right, he had been teaching Coën how to play. 

"Right, uh, you need to-" Suddenly, he felt nauseous. He handed his lute to Coën and ran down the hallway to the exit. The cold night air slapped him in the face but it didn't stop him from falling on his knees onto icy grass and gagging nothing else but spit and tears. He ate very little during dinner and hadn't had much of an appetite for the past couple weeks. He felt Geralt's hands on his shoulders but he didn't say anything. There wasn't anything more to say.

\--

Three little glass bottles. Two filled with a black liquid. The third with a red one. 

The other witchers were present for the breaking of the bond, the dissolution of the first Consort-Witcher mating in centuries. Coën was there at the specific request of Jaskier. He didn't think he could do it without his friend supporting him, perhaps even literally. Eskel had to supervise the consumption of the potions and help with any possible side effects. He looked tired and unhappy with deep bags under his eyes. Vesemir was there to support and restrain Geralt if the need arose, while Lambert leaned against the wall in the far corner of the imposing main hall. His golden eyes stayed fixated on the potions.

Anyone looking at Geralt's impassive expression and relaxed features would think that he didn't care about what was going on around him. Only the clenching and loosening of his hold on Jaskier's hand revealed some of his emotional turmoil. And, of course, Jaskier knew exactly what he was feeling.

He was shaking so bad that he was afraid he would drop the first bottle. Coën must have had the same fear because his cool, brown hand held his until the trembling eased. When he let go, Jaskier brought the bottle up to his lips. Geralt mirrored his movements, his face not revealing the pain that flowed underneath his skin.

He opened his mouth and swallowed the potion with a loud gulp. It left a bitter and foul aftertaste in his mouth. Before anyone could stop him and he could stop himself, he grabbed the red potion off the table and swallowed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to review and/or kudos! This motivates me to keep writing, knowing that people enjoy this story as much I enjoy writing it!


	7. Lambert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end is here! I can't believe I made it here and thank you so so so much to everyone who has read and loved this story!
> 
> Enjoy!

Lambert hated being a Witcher. When he was a little kid and nursing his wounds left by his drunk father, he dreamed of owning his own farm and living peacefully on the outskirts of town. He'd have a pretty wife, three children, numerous animals and horses, and his mother would be happy and healthy all the time, instead of covered in bruises and crying. Life gave him the complete opposite. 

His father came home early one day from his travels. Happy and relieved to have him gone, Lambert played in the front of the house. He would usually hide somewhere when he knew that his father was coming home. Uncharacteristically sober, his father stumbled closer to their small home and the first thing he saw was Lambert's flaming red hair in the green field. His fate was sealed. A Witcher had saved his father's life and had evoked the Law of Surprise- the first thing or person his father saw once he arrived home would belong to the Witcher.

His anger at his own fate led him to becoming a bitter person. He hated traveling by himself so much, hated that he had to pay for prostitutes in order to feel a physical connection to someone, hated the torturous two days he had to spend under the influence of his heat, hated that he had to work for people who despised him, hated that he was the youngest Witcher and would never know how it felt to be a big brother, and he hated that he got no recognition for being a pretty good Witcher. 

And he hated Geralt's Consort. 

Or at least, Lambert tried to hate him. Of course, fucking Geralt, the famous White Wolf, would figure out how to use their heats to get himself a companion while the rest of them had to be alone. He didn't think much of this Consort when Geralt dragged him into the keep, unconscious, and he didn't think much of him when Vesemir dragged him into their kitchen the next day. 

He was pretty, for a man, with large blue eyes and a ready smile for all of them. And he smelled like... Lambert sniffed the air and was transported to his childhood kitchen. His mother dipped a spoonful of honey into a pot of fresh milk. She smiled at him and looked so happy.

He blinked himself back to Kaer Morhen's kitchen, meeting Geralt's Consort for the first time, and saw that the others were already smitten with the man. Coën and Eskel looked like they were wanted to coo at and coddle him, while Vesemir stared at him fondly. He examined the man a little more closely, wondering if this was some type of hidden attack or spell. 

Underneath his initial sweet smell, he could detect Geralt's scent and it was so potent and pervasive around the man, that he might as well have Geralt's name tattooed on his forehead. This human clearly belonged to his brother, and it wasn't off-putting, just establishing boundaries. And he didn't smell afraid or disgusted, even though he was in a room full of Witchers. Lambert smelled acceptance and happiness coming from the man, and he just wanted to... curl around him and bask in those rare emotions. What the fuck? 

The others must have felt the same because they felt so relaxed around this Jaskier that they started playing around. Even Lambert joined in on some of the jokes and laughter. It felt nice, but Lambert knew that Witchers didn't get nice things. 

His fears were proven true when Vesemir held his lesson on heats and threatened them with a quiz. It was hard for Lambert to remember things without lots of repetition and pictures. His old trainer, Sorel, worked with him very hard to make sure that he could pass his Witcher's exam. He could still remember the giant hug that old, gruff Witcher gave him when he finally aced his exam. Sorel was to him what Vesemir was to Geralt. When he heard of his eventual death, he felt another part of himself die and more anger and bitterness take its place. He thought that he'd been used to all the death and loss already. 

As Vesemir explained Consorts, their history, and their heats, Lambert snuck a glance at the couple that started this mess and saw that Geralt had placed Jaskier on his lap. When Vesemir posed his question to the group, Lambert wanted to speak up and say that he would uphold the values that he had sacrificed his whole life to, even if it meant Jaskier's death. Because who the fuck was Jaskier to him? 

Before he could speak, a vision of the singer, hurt and afraid, flashed before his eyes and he knew that he would do anything to protect him. Maybe it was the weird fucked up bond messing with his head, but Jaskier didn't deserve any of that. He loved Geralt, even a blind man could see that, and he was genuinely a good person who liked the Witchers and wanted to be liked back. He didn't deserve to be used and abused, but Vesemir was right. That's exactly what would happen if he kept hanging around them. Nothing good came from this life.

He thought about the bitch Sorel kept talking about before his heat. He'd wanted to ask her to share it with him, said it felt right. Lambert didn't know much about that woman, but she seemed flaky and vapid when he'd met her. She smelled a little wary to be around another Witcher, and he could smell lust, not much else, when she was around Sorel. He now knew that she didn't have half the mental strength and devotion that Jaskier exuded in spades. If they done a ritual about selecting Consorts, like Vesemir hinted at, could he have prevented Sorel from attempting to share his heat with her? 

He wasn't surprised to hear that the singer decided to break the bond. Jaskier wasn't selfish enough to cause them all the problems Vesemir described. Geralt moped around the keep like a big baby while Jaskier tried to stay positive, but they could all smell the sadness and despair that clung to his scent. It made Lambert want to hit something to fix his problem, but he couldn't pick a fight with life or their fucked Witcher biology, so he tried to swallow his anger and let it continue to poison him like he had been doing his whole life. But it didn't work this time.

He hated being a Witcher, and he deserved better than this mediocre, lonely life. So, it was for purely selfish reasons that he sabotaged the red potion. He was tired of living this life alone. He wanted a chance at a happiness that was denied to him so long ago, to find his own Consort, and to see his brothers happy as well. Jaskier had already been hanging around Geralt for years and didn't care about the dangers, then maybe he could handle this Consort crap. How would they keep Jaskier safe? Lambert didn't really know or cared enough to stop himself from doing what he did. He'd let Geralt and his Consort pave the way for them all.

\--

As soon as he swallowed both potions, Jaskier felt his connection to Geralt disappear. Life a candle had been snuffed out in his mind. And he felt so incredibly lonely. He thought the process would be painful and agonizing, no matter what Eskel had said, and he had been prepared for that pain. Yet, he wasn't prepared for the chilling loneliness. He was in a room full of other people but still alone. 

Suddenly, he was in Geralt's arms and pressed against his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to breath in his scent- the one that reminded him of a breeze in a forest with a minty undertone- but he could barely smell him, except for the leather in his outfit. He guessed that was a side effect of the bond. 

"Jaskier, are you alright?" Geralt asked, his voice full of worry. 

"Yeah, I feel ok," he said lightly. 

"No, headaches or other side effects? You weren't supposed to take the potions so soon after each other!" It was the first time Jaskier heard that type of sternness in Eskel's voice. He shrugged apologetically when Geralt released him. 

"How do you both feel, boy?" Vesemir asked.

Jaskier glanced at Geralt. Staring at his handsome, scruffy face, Jaskier still felt an immense love for his Witcher. It was the same love that made him follow him, despite the protests, and accept to share his heat. But now his love was bigger, deeper because he knew, or had known, Geralt on another level. And he wanted more. He wanted to be with Geralt as his companion for life. He might not be enough to be his mate, but he could be everything else. 

"I feel like a man in love," Jaskier gasped when he heard Geralt say those words. He stared into those amber hues and swore he could feel his lover's affection radiating from them.

"I love you, Jaskier," Geralt said loudly and in front of his brothers and father. "I liked you before, but you have shown me that you are my one true mate, bond or no bond. I still love you, even thought I feel an emptiness right here," he patted his chest. 

He heard someone sniff behind him and thought it was Coën. 

"And I love you, Geralt of Rivia," he grinned, eyes shining with tears. "I loved you the moment I first laid eyes on you and have loved you more with each passing day."

Geralt grabbed him and placed a long, hot kiss on his lips. Jaskier pressed himself as close as possible to him and kissed him back, but something was still missing. He felt like it wasn't enough, as if he was forgetting something. From the confused look Geralt sported when they broke apart, he wasn't the only one feeling that way. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand, they better get used to that feeling. A broken bond was permanent. For a second, he thought he was going to cry, but then he remembered the others. 

He turned around and asked the teary-eyed Witcher, "Coën, do you still like me?" The other Witchers chuckled but Jaskier didn't feel like smiling until Coën eagerly nodded. 

"Of course! We weren't friends just because a bond us feel a certain way," Coën said and wiped his eyes. 

Jaskier turned to the other Witchers in the room, and they nodded. "So, we are all still friends?" They chuckled and nodded in agreement, Lambert shrugged. Jaskier turned back to Geralt and rested his head against his strong arm. Fuck, it felt like a giant weight was lifted off his body. Everyone still liked him, with or without this mystical bond. This meant more to him than words could ever describe because he grew up around people who despised him for being too loud, too bold, too talkative, and too Jaskier. They wanted Julian Alfred Pankratz, a proper lord. These people were able to accept and love him with his flaws, and he would cherish them until the end of his days.

He felt a kiss on his head.

"Wow, this is so sweet, it's practically rotting my teeth," Lambert grouched from the back. 

Jaskier smiled, but Geralt growled, "Shut it, Lambert, we're not in the mood for your attitude."

"Just humor me on this. Can we all agree that you love Jaskier and Jaskier loves you, even after the bond is broken?" Lambert uncrossed his arms and walked closer to the pair. 

"Yes," Jaskier said slowly, staring up at Geralt.

"Yes, you just heard this, Lambert," Geralt said tightly. 

"Lambert, what is going on?" Eskel's golden eyes narrowed on the youngest Witcher. 

Lambert waved him off. "If Jaskier and Geralt were still bonded, who here would have protested?" The redhead stared at each Witcher, waiting for him to say something. Each one shook his head, even Vesemir. 

"If Geralt and Jaskier understood the risks, I would have respected their decision," Vesemir shrugged. 

"Why are you asking these questions? What sense does it make when the bond is brok- Fuck!" Eskel's golden eyes widened on the redheaded Witcher.

"What?" Geralt asked, looking around.

"Nothing, I just realized something," he said cryptically, still staring at the grinning Lambert. 

"Maybe we should continue our trainings?" Jaskier really wanted to be alone with Geralt and talk about the changes. Fuck, he wished he could sense what the other was feeling- nothing was revealed on his impassive face.

"Before we do that, I have another question for the happy couple," Lambert smirked. "Just humor the youngest Witcher, alright? Geralt, if you had the choice would you take Jaskier to be your mate?"

All eyes turned to Geralt who looked dumbfounded. "Umm, in a heartbeat, but it's not-"

Lambert interrupted, "Jaskier, if you had the choice, would you take this stupid lug, Geralt, to be your mate?" Coën chuckled pointedly at that.

"Yes, knowing that you love me as yourself, Geralt, and if I could mate you again, I would have said yes a thousand times," Jaskier coughed a little when the emotions made it hard for him to swallow. He wished there had been a way of knowing if Geralt truly had loved him. He loved having the bond, it made him feel safe and secure, but he also knew that he would have never been happy if he had any doubts about Geralt's feelings and freedom to choose. Plus, he knew that the Witchers were not in any shape to support and protect a Consort, the last thing he wanted was to be burden on them. 

"Is there anyone here who can attest to Jaskier's character?" Eskel spoke up and asked this question to the group. "Is he someone who has malicious intentions on Geralt and other Witchers or someone who will not be true?"

Coën immediately stood up. "I can! Jaskier is the best type of person! He's kind, generous, gentle, and he showed me what it means to have a friend." Coën smiled at the human warmly. 

"Is he strong enough to be Geralt's mate?" Eskel asked him. 

Carried away by emotions, Coën nodded energetically. "Yes, yes! He's been traveling with Geralt for years and knows how to put that arrogant idiot in his place."

"Hey!" Geralt protested. 

Jaskier rubbed his hand soothingly.

Vesemir watched and listened to the proceedings with a small smile on his face. 

"I have some serious news to give you two," Eskel told the pair. 

Geralt and Jaskier immediately tensed and squeezed each other's hand tightly. 

"You two are officially mated now, there's no turning back. Once the silencing potion wears off, you should feel the bond coming back and nothing, except for death, will break it. Welcome to Kaer Morhen, Jaskier!" Eskel pulled a shocked Jaskier into his arms and gave him a tight hug. 

"Eskel, are you fucking kidding us? We all just saw him take that red potion!" Geralt yelled.

Lambert stepped closer. "I sabotaged that potion by adding vinegar," he said without remorse and not a small amount of pride. "I told you, I want my own honeyed milk and nothing's going to stop me now."

"Vinegar can nullify the effects of the potion. You did pay attention during lessons," Eskel said with grudging admiration. Lambert shrugged.

"What? I- Jaskier-" Geralt was having a hard time forming words, so Jaskier just hugged him in wonderment. This man was really his, and he would get to keep the potent link that connected the two of them forever. His blue eyes filled with tears again. 

Coën was unabashedly using an old rag to wipe his eyes while Vesemir patted his shoulder. 

Jaskier let go of Geralt and rushed over the oldest Witcher. "Do we have your blessing?" It felt wrong to essentially marry the man's son if he didn't agree with the couple. 

Vesemir gave him a gentle smile and placed both heavy hands on his shoulders. "Son, I only worry for you at this point but you're a strong mate and you'll be a great Consort. I only wish that we had more to offer." He squeezed his shoulders before turning to the group. "Men, it's your choice on how we proceed. I think it's time for this old coot to put his fears to rest and trust in the future." He laid a rough, heavily calloused hand on Jaskier's cheek.

"I vote we cut this sappy shit right now and get drunk," Lambert said seriously.

"I second that," Coën raised a hand.

"Me too, after I do this," Geralt grinned and hugged Lambert from behind. 

"What's going on? Stop it!" Lambert tried to wiggle free, his face turning as red as his hair. 

Jaskier smiled, following his mate's example, and plastered himself to Lambert's front.

"Aww, it's a Lam sandwich," Eskel said mockingly. 

"My turn next!" Coën stared enviously at the group hugging. 

They laughed at Lambert's half-hearted attempts to escape the tight embrace. Eventually, they broke apart and went downstairs to get drunk on wine.

That night, the silencing potion wore off and Jaskier and Geralt made love for the first time fully embracing the bond between them. No one knew what the future would bring, but they would face whatever trials came their way together.

And their first one came one year later, when Geralt brought Cirilla of Cintra to Kaer Morhen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please write some reviews and/or kudos! Let me know what you think of the ending! Did I keep you on your toes?


	8. Ciri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you fabulous readers are doing well!
> 
> I'm very proud of this chapter. Ciri's voice wasn't coming through to me, then I kept working on it until she started to develop rather nicely. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Minor, very minor book spoilers in my end notes.

During her first week at Kaer Morhen, Ciri was shocked and afraid. Geralt introduced her to all the other Witchers and his Consort, Jaskier. She had no idea what a Consort was, but she guessed from the glances and touches between the two that it was another word for husband. She liked Jaskier the most, and Geralt of course, because there was something about him that seemed approachable and easy to like. On the other hand, the other Witchers were really big with glowing yellow eyes and permanent frowns. Or, so it seemed to her. In reality, she later realized, the only one frowning at her was the redheaded Witcher. 

She sat quietly during most of their meals. She spoke when spoken to and it was usually Geralt or Jaskier trying to engage her in conversation. The other Witchers ignored her and that was fine because it meant that she could examine them without interruption. 

There was Vesemir, who was kind of like Geralt's father. He was the oldest looking man in the group with a grey beard and heavy wrinkles. He was also looked at her sadly whenever he thought she wasn't looking. What did he see when he looked at her?

Then, there was Eskel, who had initially scared her with the scars on his face, but she now knew that he was probably the quietest one out of all the Witchers. He smiled at her when he saw her but did nothing else. 

Coën was one of the younger Witchers, Geralt told her. She could tell he was close to Jaskier because the two always sat together and spoke quietly to each other. But there was a sadness about him that made her sad and remember all the people she'd lost, so she tried to stay away from him whenever possible. 

Finally, there was Lambert who frowned at her all the time and made his displeasure at her presence known. Kaer Morhen was no place for a dainty princess, he said loudly when Geralt first brought her. And he was right.

The castle was old, dusty, and there were no servants in sight. Each morning, she had to dress herself and eat questionable meals and hang around questionable company. She realized that the time she'd spent fleeing hadn't prepared her for her new life here. The place felt sad, too. It felt like Kaer Morhen was trying to hold onto the past because it had no future.

She thought about this as she walked up and down the staircase during her second week at the keep, exploring corridors and looking for hidden rooms. She saw large training rooms and empty dormitories. When she found herself in a smaller dormitory with smaller beds, she spotted a faded blue toy on one of the bed. Ciri picked it up. Whoever made it used a sock and had sewn the buttons all wrong. The doll looked lopsided. 

Children used to live here, she realized. This used to be a school. Ciri looked around the dusty and unused room with new eyes. The beds were neatly made and symmetrically arranged but covered in a thick layer of dust. There an even number of racks on the wall and washing bins.

She searched further and found herself in another training hall, this time smaller and with child sized wooden weapons. She placed the toy on a nearby shelf and picked up a wooden sword. 

"That one's too small for you," Vesemir said behind her. She whirled around to see him staring at her with that sad look in his face.

"Can you teach me how to use it?" She asked and raised the fake blade. 

Vesemir looked her over more critically. "You're a princess," was his reply. 

"So what? I want to learn how to fight," besides she didn't have a kingdom any longer. She was just Ciri, a girl living in a forgotten school. 

Vesemir chuckled. "No, I mean you have no form, no muscles, no understanding of what you're holding in your hand. That's not a dagger, young lady, it's your sword, your protection and your honor."

"Oh," she blinked and looked down at the weapon. 

"A real sword is going to weigh much more than that. If you're serious about learning, you're going to have to develop stamina and strength. Then, some combat knowledge," the old Witcher held up the backs of his arms out in front of his face. 

"Hit me as hard as you can, let me see what you got," he told her.

Ciri eyes widened and held up the wooden sword hesitantly. "I don't want-"

His golden eyes twinkled. "You can't hurt me, girl, a little thing like you?" He laughed when she huffed and raised the sword as high as she could and hit his arms. "Not bad, but try to hit less like a girl." 

Ciri gritted her teeth and hit him over and over again. Sometimes, Vesemir moved his arms, so Ciri had to swing her sword fast to not hit his face. Other times, Vesemir dogged and struck back lightly with his fists, and she had to dodge and swing at the same time. By the end of the short training session, she was sweaty, tired, and frustrated because she didn't feel like she accomplished a lot, but at the same time, she felt amazing. 

For the first time, she wasn't thinking about her grandparents or Cintra or Dara. She didn't feel afraid, and she was tired of being afraid. Vesemir nodded at her in approval, clapped her on the back, and said to come back in the morning if she wanted more. She didn't make any promises and tiredly dragged herself back to her room where she cleaned herself off and got ready for bed. 

Jaskier knocked on her door, and Ciri grinned, "Come in."

He always came in around the same time to say goodnight. "Hello, how's the fairest lady in the whole land?" 

She giggled. "You say that everyday."

He came around to sit on the chair next to her bed. "Because it's true, of course. Didn't see too much of you today," he said without judgment. 

"Vesemir was training me," she yawned, so she missed the flummoxed look he threw at her.

"Vesemir? I guess it's his favorite past-time. Are you alright?" He looked her over in concern. Ciri rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine. I'm not a dainty princess," she mimicked Lambert's tone of disdain, making Jaskier laugh. 

"Don't mind him, Ciri. He might not show it, but his heart is in the right place. And we are all concerned that this place might not be right for you. You are used to a different life," Jaskier's blue orbs stared into hers. "Is this place too much for you?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm not the same girl I was in Cintra. That girl died when her country fell. Now, I'm just Ciri, no princesses here, and I'm starting to like it here." She realized that it was true. She glanced at the blue little sock doll sitting next to her on the bed.

"Now to convince Geralt of that," Jaskier and Ciri laughed at the shared memory. 

During the first night Ciri spent at Kaer Morhen, she started crying just as Geralt was putting her to bed. She mentally blamed it on the long days of traveling, losing her friend, the bad luck she felt she carried around with her and the fear that she was bringing it to Geralt and his family, and the intense relief she felt at being somewhere safe. She didn't know how to express all that to Geralt, so she simply sobbed that her bed was uncomfortable. 

For the next half hour, Geralt combed through the bedding and stuffed mattress, trying to fluff it for her. Ciri thought the bed was actually very comfortable, so she kept sobbing because she felt bad for making Geralt do more work when he'd already done so much for her. Jaskier wandered in to see the crying ex-princess and a frantic Witcher, trying to find a reason for the mattress's uncomfortable status.

Before Ciri had to fess up to her lie, Geralt triumphantly held up a tiny stone to the pair. Ciri stopped crying long enough to stare at him, Jaskier raised an eyebrow. 

"It's like that fairytale. The princess and the pea? Only a true princess can feel the pea in her mattress," Geralt said proudly and put the mattress and bedding back together. "Should be better now. I guess fairytales do have some truth to them," he gestured to the bed, and blushing, Ciri got back in it and claimed it was better. She told Jaskier the truth the next day, and the man spent five whole minutes laughing.

"You know, we're here for you, Ciri," his tone turned serious. "Everyone in this keep."

"I know," and it was the truth, too. 

Ciri had a wonderful dream that night, instead of her usual nightmares. She was strong yet feminine, a fighter but also a protector, and no one could beat her in combat. She was invincible. She helped other lost, crying girls and made them feel safe again. When she woke up, she knew that she wanted to be a Witcher. 

At breakfast, she held the realization close to her heart and examined her sudden desire. She had never envisioned herself as a warrior, and she didn't know if she could it, but she wanted to try. Ciri clenched her hands into small fists. She mentally compared them to Geralt's. Would she ever be as fearsome and strong as he was? 

"Why aren't there female Witchers?" She asked Vesemir. The others at the table quieted, surprised to hear her speak first.

"Not sure. I haven't heard of a female Witcher in the School of the Wolf. I did hear of some in the School of the Cat but never met one," Vesemir mused as he stroked his beard. 

"Female witchers, what a joke," Lambert laughed but no one laughed with him. He sulked.

"Can a girl become a Witcher?" Ciri asked, this time directing her question to anyone at the large table. 

"Ciri, what brings all this on?" Geralt asked her, setting down his spoon. 

"I'm just curious. I only see men here when women are just as good or even better," Ciri's comment elicited a laugh and a thumbs up from Jaskier and surprised looks from the the Witchers.

"Women can be Witchers as long as they survive the mutagens," Vesemir replied. 

"Mutagens?"

"Potion that transforms a human into a Witcher," surprisingly it was Lambert who answered. 

"And before you get any bright ideas, no one knows how to make the mutagen potion. The recipe has been lost for centuries," Geralt said sternly. 

"But then you can't make new Witchers?" She said sadly. 

Vesemir smiled down at her, "One can be a Witcher without the Trials."

Lambert scoffed but didn't say anything. 

Ciri wasn't surprised that Geralt pulled her aside after their meal. Without Jaskier, Ciri gulped. Was he going to try and get rid of her because of her questions?

"Ciri, what are you thinking about? Why all these questions?" Geralt asked with his huge arms crossed over his wide chest. 

She also crossed her arms but knew that she didn't look as impressive. "I can ask questions, can't I?"

He looked a little taken aback. "Of course, you can. I just want to know where these questions are coming from."

She steeled herself and raised her head like she'd seen her grandmother do. "I want to be a Witcher."

Silence. Her cheeks flushed, but she refused to look away. Geralt frowned at her. "Why?"

She mentally flailed. She couldn't say because she had a dream and loved the woman she had seen in it. "I want to be like you," and that was also very true.

Geralt uncrossed his arms and stared at her in shock. She kept her arms crossed and tense. "Ciri, you have no idea what it means to a Witcher. It's not all rescuing maidens and fighting with a sword. It's a terrible life. I would cut off my own arm than see you become a Witcher," he told her firmly.

Ciri stared down at her feet and could feel her chin tremble. She bit her lip and tried to keep her emotions under control. A part of her rationally understood what Geralt had said and acknowledged that being a Witcher meant leading a hard life, but a larger part of her felt incredibly hurt and disappointed. Geralt didn't believe in her, he thought that she didn't have what it takes to be a Witcher. Was it because she wasn't a boy? Or, because she was royalty by blood?

Gentle hands squeezed her shoulders. She sniffed and looked up to see Jaskier's smiling face. She felt some of the tension leave her body, he'd been nearby.

"Ciri, we have no doubt that you could be the first female Witcher the School of the Wolf has ever seen," he ran a hand through her loose curly blonde hair. "But maybe think about this a little more. Ask the other Witchers and see what they say this life is like."

Geralt looked unhappy at this but nodded.

With a mission in mind, Ciri started with Coën. She found him training with his sword in the upstairs training hall. She stared at the confidence and power he exuded as he wielded his sword with grace and mastery. Ciri was starting to see what Vesemir meant when he said her sword was her honor. 

"So, you want to be a Witcher?" He asked when she finished asking her question. She shrugged, honestly uncertain, despite her declaration to Geralt. Coën hummed thoughtfully. "I like being a Witcher, but it's lonely." At that, his face crumbled into sadness and longing. 

"What about Jaskier and Geralt? They found each other!" Ciri wanted him to smile, and she succeeded because Coën laughed. She had the feeling that he was usually a cheerful person when comfortable in his surroundings. 

"Believe it or not, Lambert saved that couple. He practically married them!" He giggled at the shocked look on her face. "It's not an easy life or for the faint of heart. You'll be alone a lot, in more ways than one."

"I keep hearing that," Ciri said. 

Noticing her crestfallen expression, Coën added, "But if you want to train, I can give you some pointers."

She snapped her head back to him. "Really?"

Coën smiled at her enthusiasm. "It would be my pleasure."

That's how Ciri found herself practicing using a sword and arrow with Coën every afternoon. 

"Why the bow?" She complained when her target failed to hit anything close to the red mark. 

"Griffins are pretty handy with a bow."

"But I want to be a wolf, like Geralt," she said automatically. 

Coën pouted. "Griffins are better," he grumbled. 

She managed to corner Eskel at some point and asked him the same question about a Witcher's life. He looked surprised at her question and put down the book he'd been filing in an overflowing bookshelf. 

"I guess I like being a Witcher. It's not bad. The problem is having so few of us. Wish we had more," he ruffled her hair when he said the last part. 

"What are you doing here? Trying to figure out that mutagen potion?" It's what she would be doing if she knew anything about magic.

He sighed and looked down at the scattered books and papers. "No, there's no hope for that. I'm trying to see if there are some helpful potions in here. Being a Witcher is not just about fighting monsters and helping people, it's also about managing our magical abilities and potions."

"Seriously?" She looked at the papers with new, eager eyes. 

"Yes," he nodded, then hesitated. "I could, uh, teach you some basic things. Just some things that could help you in a fight. Things that every young Witcher should know."

"Wow," she nodded eagerly. That's how she found herself training with Eskel. 

For the next few weeks, her schedule consisted of a lot of training. She would get up, train with Vesemir, have breakfast with everyone, train with Esekl, have lunch, train with Coën. She'd shed her dress and heavy cloak for pants and a loose shirt. She wore her long blonde hair in a ponytail. 

She couldn't tell if Geralt was pleased or displeased at her change and sometimes, she thought it was both. 

With her trainings, her nightmares slowly got better. She still had really bad nightmares that seemed more real to her than reality. A month into her stay at Kaer Morhen, she dreamed that the man on the black horse was in the room with her. That he'd followed her all the way to Kaer Morhen and was going to kill Geralt, Jaskier, Vesemir, Coën, Eskel, and Lambert if she didn't warn them in time. She screamed and fled her room, heading straight for Jaskier's room. When she reached it and flung the door open, she started screaming for a completely different reason.

"Fuck, Geralt, it's our kid!" She heard Jaskier yell. She kept her hands over her eyes and wondered if Eskel knew a potion that could make her forget Jaskier bouncing on Geralt while both were naked. 

"Ciri, are you alright?" Geralt asked, his gentle voice close to her. 

She shook her head, "Is it safe to open my eyes?" She asked timidly. 

Geralt cursed, then said softly, "Of course, little one."

Jaskier, thankfully clothed, waved to her from the bed. Geralt stood near her dressed in loose fitting pants. 

"What happened Ciri?" He laid a large hand on her shoulder. 

Feeling his rough, hesitant touch, Ciri flung herself at Geralt and wrapped her arms around his waist, crying about the man following her and that he was going to kill everyone because of her. She didn't want everyone to die. She didn't want to be alone again. 

Geralt rubbed her back, then steered her towards the bed where she went from Geralt to Jaskier's waiting arms. Sitting between the two of them, she felt so safe and secure. When it was just Geralt, she felt safe but not sheltered and protected like this. She felt like she found her way back home.

She nuzzled into Jaskier's chest, detecting a different smell from him. It was very faint but sweet, kind of like the honey candy drops her grandfather would sneak to her before dinner, despite her grandmother's warnings about ruining Ciri's appetite. She didn't noticed when the two men laid her on the center of the bed and got in on either side of her. She fell asleep wrapped in their warmth.

The next morning, Ciri was very embarrassed and ate breakfast with red cheeks, but that didn't stop her from sitting between Jaskier and Geralt.

"What's wrong, Ciri? You're quiet today," Coën asked after taking a bite from an apple.

She shook her head and blushed again. She was supposed to strong, warrior-girl Ciri now, not weak, dainty princess Ciri. She realized that she had more of a long ways to go than she'd realized.

Lambert sought her out later that day while she was weight training. Vesemir said that if she continued to get stronger, he would start her on the The Killer. Ciri's method of weight training was picking up heavy objects around the training hall. She would drop it when she started shaking. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Lambert growled, almost causing her to drop the heavy box on her foot.

"Trying to get stronger!" She yelled. 

"You don't lift weights like that. You'll injure something," Lambert put his hands on his hips. 

"Why? Because I'm a princess. I need people to save me?" She kicked the box. Feeling better, she kicked the box in frustration again. She felt like she'd been getting better, but she was nowhere near being the superstar fighter she'd envisioned. She still felt like that scared little girl that Geralt rescued in the forest and last night had proved it.

"No, because you have to start small and work your way up," Lambert went to the back of the training hall with the cluttered shelves and rummaged around for something. He pulled out a few weights and casually dropped them at Ciri's feet. 

"Start with the small one, do a few with one arm, then with the other. You'll see that it gets easier," Lambert advised. She picked one up.

"You think I could be a Witcher?" 

The redhead snorted, "Sure, you look dumb enough for the part." Seeing her hurt expression, his tone softened. "Look, I hate being a Witcher. If I could be doing anything else, I would be. Why do you want to be one? You're a princess! Sure, you lost your kingdom but my point is you could do anything you want."

Ciri bit her lip. "I want to be strong. I don't ever want to feel helpless again. And this feels right."

His eyes softened but his sharp words belied that, "I guess you're dumb enough for it, then." He cleared his throat. "You know, weights won't be enough. You need to change your diet and develop those muscles, take the supplement drink."

"Vesemir said he was going to put me on the Killer," she said proudly. 

Lambert laughed. "It'll take you all day to finish that, if you survive it, at the rate you're going," he looked uncomfortable when her shoulders sagged. "I'll talk to Geralt and Jaskier and see about that supplement."

"Absolutely not!" Geralt roared during dinner. 

"What's this supplement drink?" Jaskier asked calmly as he buttered his bread. 

"It's something to help with muscle development. We give it to all young Witchers when they are about Ciri's age," Vesemir tore into his piece of meat with relish. He frowned at the only female at the table. "You better eat all that. The protein is good for you."

Ciri meekly lifted up the piece of meat with her bare hands, like everyone else at the table, and bit into it. 

"Yes, we give it to young Witchers, and Ciri isn't a Witcher!" Geralt said heatedly. 

"But we're training her like she is!" Lambert slammed his drink onto the table. "Are we training her to be the next Witcher or just doing this for fun? I think I should know if I'm wasting my time here." 

"And what the fuck have you done with her? She spends most of her time training with everyone else," Geralt gestured to the other Witchers at the table.

Jaskier raised a hand, "I'm still caught on this supplement drink stuff. Is it safe for girls to drink?" Everyone, including Ciri, stared at him in confusion. "She's a girl, she has girl stuff," he gestured vaguely to his chest area. "You know?"

Geralt frowned at his Consort. Eskel and Coën squinted at him in confusion. Lambert and Vesemir shrugged at each other. Ciri looked down at her flat chest. 

Jaskier's face reddened, it was the first time Ciri saw him lose his control of his emotions. "She's a growing young lady, she'll get her period and other stuff will happen to her body soon."

Geralt widened his eyes dramatically, Vesemir and Eskel refused to look in Ciri's direction even though she was sitting right across from them, Coën nodded sagely and went back to eating his meat, while Lambert still looked at each person in confusion much like Ciri did.

Determined, Jaskier continued while staring at the table, "We need to think about what this supplement will do to a girl's body. Actually, we all need to think about doing things a little differently. If Ciri does want to be a Witcher, then we can't treat her like a boy. She's a girl and that's wonderful, but it means that she'll have different needs." 

Ciri thought that sounded pretty smart, so she copied Coën and kept nodding wisely to Jaskier's words, but she was still confused about one thing. "What's a period?" She innocently asked. 

All the men at the table paled. Coën choked on his food. Geralt put his head in his hands. Jaskier cleared his throat, "Umm, can we hold on that conversation?"

After that, her trainings changed a little. The intensity and rigor didn't, but the tone and language of her trainers did. Vesemir added hints and activities that helped Ciri use her speed and agility to fight larger targets. Coën began to add running into their training regime to boost her endurance and stamina. Lambert worked on gradual weight training with her, while Eskel took over on the sword. And Geralt was present for almost every training session. 

She fought a little harder and with more energy when she sensed him looking at her. She wanted to impress him, she wanted him to acknowledge her strength and her desire to be a Witcher, like him. 

Whenever she glanced over at him, his face was impassive. When Jaskier joined the Witcher, he looked impressed and clapped his hands enthusiastically. 

On a bright, brisk morning during the beginning of her third month at Kaer Morhen, Ciri started the Killer. Vesemir and Jaskier sent her off with advice and hugs, respectively, and Ciri waved to them as she disappeared into the tree line. She immediately saw why this path was called the Killer as she stared down an immediate drop. Vesemir only said to follow the path around the keep, if she did it right, she'll loop back to the front. Unbeknownst to her, Lambert and Coën were trailing her along the path to make sure she was safe, while Geralt and Eskel kept watch with their superhuman sight on the second floor landing of the keep. 

Running the Killer was the hardest thing she had ever done, but not the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She thought about missing her parents, whom she'd never met, seeing her formidable grandmother reduced to tears as she neared death's door, and bringing death and destruction to everyone she met on her path to safety. But not here. This was where she belonged, and this was her new family. And she would prove it to all of them, and to herself, today.

Hours later, she neared the front of the keep and saw everyone standing in a line waiting for her. Seeing her burst out of the tree line, they started cheering. Even though she was exhausted, sore, and certain that she had bruised herself in more than one place, she ran faster towards them. 

As she got closer, she saw that Geralt was smiling at her, pride clear on his features. Ciri felt her heart beat a little faster and sprinted towards him, barreling into his chest. He caught her easily and wrapped her in his strong arms. It felt different than being in her grandfather's arms, it felt stronger and safer. Kind of like how she'd imagined her father's embrace would feel like. 

"I'm so proud of you, little one," he kissed her temple and hugged her tightly. 

"Ciri, Ciri!" The small group chanted as they clapped and patted her on the back.

"Not even experienced Witchers can do the Killer that fast," Vesemir said proudly as well and scooped her up into a surprise hug when Geralt released her. 

"Yeah, Lambert didn't do it that fast on his first try," Eskel teased and jabbed at the smiling redhead with his elbow. 

"Ciri, welcome to the Witcher training program!" Coën hugged her tightly. 

She saw Jaskier hanging back from the group, a small smile on his face, and Ciri worried her lip. He was usually the most vocal one about her successes. Maybe she didn't do as well as everyone said? She ran over to him, and he automatically hugged her. His hug was different, too, from her grandfather's or grandmother's and from Geralt's. It was just as strong, just as safe, but in a different, softer way. 

"Are you proud?" She asked anxiously when she pulled back. 

Jaskier's eyes watered, and he tried to blink his tears away. "You're the future of this place, Ciri," he laid his hand on her head. "I couldn't be prouder of that future."

"Let's get drunk, umm, I mean drunk on water and music!" Lambert yelled to the group. He sneaked a glance at Ciri.

Inside the keep, Coën played the lute while Jaskier sang to the enraptured group. Ciri loved Jaskier's voice and clapped happily when the duo finished their song. Lambert and Eskel chugged on a red mystery drink as they listened while Geralt and Vesemir sat with Ciri. 

After the singing and drinking (Ciri pouted when she realized she was the only one drinking water), the group started playing Gwent.

"Ciri, you might not know what Gwent is but-" Geralt began to say. 

"Oh, I love this game! What's the wager? Can I use someone's deck?" Ciri checked out cards she could see. 

Geralt stared at her in shock.

"Ciri, use my deck. It's probably time, I handed it down to the younger generation," Vesemir handed her his stack of cards. 

Ciri flipped through them, her eyes becoming larger and larger with every new card she saw. "This is an amazing deck! I've never even seen some of these cards." 

"That's why Vesemir always wins," Coën said. "And Geralt's been waiting for years to get his hands on those cards." He pointed to Geralt's stony expression. 

Ciri shrugged, "Oops. Maybe you're much better. It won't matter if I can't use the cards right."

Jaskier held Geralt and patted his back when Ciri beat him three times in a row.

A month and a half later, Ciri waved sadly to Coën and Lambert as they left Kaer Morhen to follow the Path. Geralt, Jaskier, and Eskel decided to stay back and continue training her. Eskel and Geralt would take on jobs in the surrounding area. Plus, it was the safest place for Ciri, considering who she was and the people looking for her. Vesemir grinned cheerfully for days at the thought of having company all year round.

One year later, Ciri stood in the same spot, waiting for Coën to arrive. Geralt said that he spotted a figure on the Killer. Lambert had arrived days ago, looking like his usual cranky self, but he gave Ciri a quick, awkward hug and asked about her training. She was so excited to show him and Coën what she'd learned. 

When Coën broke through the tree line, she waved at him excitedly but stopped when she saw that he wasn't alone. He was holding a tall man's hand and behind them was a young woman with dark blonde hair. 

Ciri grinned and ran to greet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor book spoilers!!!
> 
> The whole supplement drink thing came from one of the Witcher books. I can't take credit for that idea, but I handled it differently.
> 
> Please review and/or kudos! It helps to know what people like, want to read more about, or what questions you have. 
> 
> Also, check out Coën's sequel, Witcher's Heat: Coën. Read about him getting his man!


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